The Ties That Bind
by ValleyA
Summary: Peter is trying to deal with the recent events of his life when he meets with friends for an annual memorial, but nothing is as it seems and soon the lives of everyone there are in danger.
1. Chapter 1

1**Title:** "The Ties That Bind"

**Author:** Valorie Avants

**Disclaimer:** KFTLC and its myriad of characters belong to Michael Sloan and others. I am only borrowing them for the purpose of delivering another Halloween tale, to frighten, creep, and generally gross out my cyber-buddies. Sorry, I don't have any candy corn for you to munch on while reading this tale, but you could use your imagination...or even go to the store GG 

**Canon Characters:** Peter Caine, Kwai Chang Caine, Paul Blaisdell, and Lo Si

**Original Characters:** Gordon, Martin, and Phoebe Kensington, Mike Denton, JD Barnes, and Ray Peterson.

**Rating:** T for violence (after all, this is a Valnessa Halloween tale VEG )

**Synopsis:** Peter is trying to deal with the recent events of his life when he meets with friends for an annual memorial, but nothing is as it seems and soon the lives of everyone there are in danger.

**Special Thanks:** to those who have been patient with me as this story came to life and grew into what it is today. You know, I was pretty disappointed last year that I didn't have a Halloween story to share, but now I know the story is much better because it had to simmer for another year. Now, it's soup time! (Or at least Halloween soup) My thanks to those who beta read more than one version and offered advice. Their suggestions are the spice that makes this story all the more tastier. Any mistakes left in the broth are all mine! So, eat up, guys! GG 

**"The Ties That Bind"**

**by Valorie Avants**

(This story is set immediately after "Secret Place")

_**"One can be a brother only in something.**_

_**Where there is no tie that binds men,**_

_**men are not united but merely lined up."**_

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

**Chapter One**

Peter stood in front of his entertainment center, staring at a framed photograph in his hand. He hadn't moved, except to breathe, for over a minute. With Peter, that was an eternity of stillness. Paul rubbed his tongue along the inside of one cheek. He didn't like what he saw in his former foster son. He didn't like it at all.

Peter was recovering from a bullet wound sustained a week before. Even though the wound was hidden by Peter's white pullover sweater, Paul knew the extent of the damage Max's bullet had done. Peter should have been wearing the arm sling the doctor had given him, but he wasn't. Paul sighed. He wouldn't say anything about it. After all, he wasn't here to nag, he'd come to support Peter during a trying time. Finally, he asked, "What are you thinking, son?"

Peter didn't move for a long moment, causing Paul's concern for him to grow. At last, Peter reacted, his facial muscles taut as if trying to keep a tight lid on his emotions. "I keep thinking I let Max down, just like I let-"

Paul's own reaction was immediate. "Don't say it, Peter. Don't say it, because it just isn't true. You didn't let any of them down."

Again, Peter went quiet. The young man hadn't been himself ever since the hostage situation with Max Forrester went bad. Granted Peter was shot after long hours of hostage negotiations, but this was something altogether different, almost as if his spirit had been more seriously injured than anything done to his body.

"Peter?"

Paul's persistence broke through Peter's withdrawn state. The young man shrugged nervously, appearing embarrassed to be caught staring at his past. "It's just hard to believe it's already been five years," he whispered.

Paul nodded, waiting for Peter to say more. His worry increased when nothing else followed. Peter always had something to say, usually at length.

When the silence continued, Paul thought back a week to the recovery room where he'd sat with Peter as the young man fought to awaken from anesthesia.

The surgery to repair the bullet's damage hadn't lasted long, but it was still surgery, and the drug-induced fog was slow to wear off. Peter seemed to linger in that half-dream state, reliving Max's death over and over, repeating the things he'd said after he'd first collapsed from his gunshot wound.

_"It's my fault. I told Max he could trust me. I led him to his death. I just let him die."_

The sentiment continued, though the words varied. It cut at Paul's heart more than a knife ever could. What had happened at the water treatment plant wasn't Peter's fault, not in the least, but he couldn't convince Peter of that fact. Back then, Paul wished Peter could quiet his rambling dialog, just because it was so painful to listen to, but now this silence felt far worse.

Peter's guilt over Max Forrester's death was only a week old, but the incident Peter referred to was from five years ago. Yet, the feelings from that time were still so strong, it was almost palpable in the air around them. Paul reached out and rested his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Peter, that happened a long time ago."

"It might seem like that to you, but it's not to me." Peter tried to slough off Paul's hand, but Paul just held on.

Hel bit his lower lip and repeated something he'd told Peter numerous times over the years, though none of it never seemed to stay with Peter. "Men go down in the line of duty all the time. It's one of the hazards of the job."

Peter frowned, pursing his lips together as he stared at the picture still in his hand. "The six of us were so damned green back then, but we couldn't see it. Hell, we thought we knew everything."

Paul smiled sadly, recalling the day that picture had been taken. It was graduation day for Peter and his friends from the police academy, and one of Paul's proudest memories of his son. The photograph had only been a year old when tragedy struck.

Paul spoke softly, praying his compassion would reach through Peter's haze of emotion, "Peter, you don't have to join the others. You just got out of the hospital. They know you're on medical leave. They wouldn't think any less of you if you-"

"I would," Peter said quickly, finally setting the picture down. "I would think less of me for not going and that's the bottom line."

Paul sighed. When he saw that determined edge in Peter's expression, he knew there was no point to arguing the matter further. He moved his hand to Peter's neck and squeezed gently. "I understand why you need to do this. It's the same reason all of you get together to remember Gordy and Marty. Death tends to bond survivors together in a way nothing else can, but I also remember the hell you went through back then. Don't allow yourself to be drawn back imto those dark times again."

Not meeting Paul's waiting gaze, Peter's eyes darted around the room until he finally glanced at his watch. "We better go. I appreciate you giving me a ride over to Marty's. The doc must have it out for me to restrict me from driving for another week."

"It would be one thing if you had an automatic, but the Corvette is a stick, and that arm of yours isn't quite up to shifting gears yet," Paul said as he let his hand drop away from Peter's neck to rest on his shoulder. "You sure you don't want me to pick you up?"

"No, Ray already said he could bring me home."

Peter hesitated, instead of moving toward the door, and that told Paul a lot about how his son truly felt about going to the gathering. The past and the present seemed to blur together as Paul looked into Peter's hazel eyes and saw the same emotional haze clouding them now as back then.

Paul sighed. "Peter, what happened to Gordy wasn't your fault. Just as you're not to blame for what happened to Max."

Peter's gaze narrowed. "Well, I'm alive and they aren't. I guess that says something."

"Yes, it says a lot about your resourcefulness, not your culpability."

"Whatever," Peter said as he dismissed Paul's comment, "Let me grab my jacket and we can go."

Paul turned toward the door of Peter's apartment, but stopped to glance back at Peter. He saw the young man flinch as he bent over to pick up his jacket from the back of a chair. It was too soon for Peter to be moving around like he was, not that Peter would ever admit it.

Paul wanted to offer some tidbit of insight that would knock the burden of responsibility from Peter's shoulders, but everything he could think of sounded contrived, and that would only infuriate Peter more. Despite that, Paul found he couldn't remain silent, not when it was this important.

"You know, Annie wanted to come along with us, but she decided against it, mostly because she thought it would give us a chance to talk, but we aren't talking, are we? Not really, not like we should be doing. All that's happening is I'm trying to make you see my point of view and you are trying to make me see yours. What are we doing wrong?"

The misery in Peter's gaze flared, making him stare deep into Paul's eyes, as if he was searching for some hidden remedy to his pain. A visual connection sprang between the two men, tentatively communicating via that emotional conduit. Peter opened his mouth as if to say something, and Paul waited, hoping Peter would open up to him after a week of tightlipped silence, but he was disappointed to see the words die on Peter's lips unspoken.

Peter looked away. When he turned back, the grief in his expressive eyes was so strong, it almost took Paul's breath away. Peter whispered, "Sometimes, even when you do everything right, it can still go terribly wrong."

Peter turned toward the door and Paul knew right then there wouldn't be any further father-and-son heart-to-heart conversations. Rather than working together, they were playing some emotional form of tug-of-war, except when this game was all over, there would be no winners.

Paul followed Peter to the door, hoping for another chance to talk in the car. He reconsidered that hope when he saw Peter's heavy footsteps, knowing the likelihood of breaking through Peter's dark mood was next to nothing.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Caine paused at the door to the Ancient's apartment, wondering if he should leave without bothering the old man when the door opened and Lo Si's smiling face greeted him.

"Kwai Chang, I should have been expecting you this evening."

Caine raised a questioning eyebrow.

Lo Si smiled. "You have been in my thoughts tonight, along with Peter."

Not addressing the Ancient's comment, Caine bowed in respect and said, "I thought I would replenish the herbs I borrowed last week."

Lo Si took them from him. "Thank you, but there was no rush to return them."

The old man bowed slightly and when he came up, he eyed Caine carefully. "Perhaps I can offer you some tea on this chilly evening."

Caine smiled. "Tea would be most welcomed."

Kwai Chang wandered through the living room of the Ancient's apartment, not sure if he should stay or leave. Lo Si returned with a tea set, ending Caine's indecision. The old man placed it upon the coffee table before them. "You are worried about Peter," he said softly as he began pouring the tea.

The Ancient knew him too well. Caine nodded without looking in Lo Si's direction. "Peter has taken Max's death to heart. Nothing I do seems to bring him out of his grief."

Lo Si handed Caine a cup of steaming tea. "Then, perhaps, you should not try to force the issue."

Caine looked up from his tea. "What?"

"Peter has been through much in the past few months. Consider all that has occurred: Finding you again; being shot shortly afterward by Tan's henchman, Chan; the loss of a close friend to the Shadow Assassin; my kidnapping by Chan and Jack Wong, and the ordeal that followed; the accidental shooting of the grocery store customer; and now the death of Max Forrester.

"It is a great deal for any man to grapple with, but this is especially hard for Peter with the burden of guilt he carries. That guilt may be the strongest hurdle for your son to overcome."

Lo Si picked up his own tea cup and wrapped his hands around it, pausing in deep thought. Kwai Chang didn't press him to speak before he was ready. Finally, the Ancient said, "Perhaps Peter needs to carry this burden for a time before he can let go of it. We all must follow our own paths to enlightenment. Peter must see this for himself and be open to the process before he can move on."

Caine's gaze narrowed. "There is something more here, something that you are not saying."

"No. Yes." The old man shook his head and took a deep breath. "Perhaps, there is. I am sorry, Kwai Chang, I did not sleep well last night and it seems to be clouding my thinking."

Caine's expression tightened. "Neither did I. There were troubling dreams."

Lo Si brushed at his Fu Manchu mustache. "Yes, there were dreams, frightening dreams, dreams involving Peter. It is significant that we both have seen them."

Lo Si took a deep breath and closed his eyes, only to cringe a moment later as if in great pain. Kwai Chang moved forward. "Master Lo Si?"

When Lo Si didn't answer, Caine called his name again. Without a response, Caine touched his arm, freeing Lo Si from whatever held him paralyzed. When the old man finally spoke, he sounded winded. "Can you not feel it, Kwai Chang? There is an oppressive fury lurking...waiting for its chance to attack."

Caine went silent, searching for what Lo Si had detected. "I do sense something, but I cannot discern its danger. Can you see more than I?"

The Ancient straightened his shoulders. "No, not at this time, but I fear for Peter and perhaps for us, too."

Caine's eyebrow rose in an unspoken question. Lo Si nodded and stood. He spoke as he walked to a window, looking out at the cool evening. "I felt it last night when I was meditating, the dreams confirmed it, and now the sense of foreboding I feel has only strengthened instead of waning."

Caine stood and followed him to the window. "Can you tell me more?"

"I wish I could, Kwai Chang, but much is still hidden behind the cloak of understanding. I only know that we must be ready to help Peter when the time comes."

Lo Si turned from the window and returned to the sofa and his tea. Caine stood in place, deeply troubled by the Ancient's words, and then realized he'd been feeling the same warnings on some instinctive level, but hadn't acknowledged their significance until now.

Trouble was coming. No, trouble had been on a steady surge for months and it had flared again with Max's death. Now, there was more on the way, and somehow it involved Peter once again.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Peter didn't say much on the drive over to the Kensington home. Then again, there wasn't much to be said. He was going there to be with the others as they remembered two brothers; one dead, and the other alive, but not really living.

They'd been born twins, Marty and Gordy Kensington. Marty's wife, Phoebe, had often said that one brother would never be able to function without the other. In the end, she was right. Marty had been so badly injured in the explosion that killed Gordy, he was in a near vegetative state. He had a feeding tube that allowed him nutrients, fluids, and an access point for medication, but no one would argue that the man was living, he was merely alive.

_How did it go so damned wrong_, Peter wondered for the umpteenth time. He never got any answers that made sense. The only response was the repeating film loops in his head of the events leading to the explosion and the nightmare afterwards.

Peter realized the car had stopped and blinked. "Thanks, Paul," he said quickly, using an emotionless tone that revealed nothing of the turmoil inside of him.

"Peter, I really think we need to talk more about--"

Peter opened the car door and looked back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Not right now. We will talk, but I just don't have the energy for it at the moment. Give me some time."

He mumbled a quick goodbye and got out of the car. Peter couldn't help but notice how slowly Paul pulled away. He half-expected Paul to change his mind and return to the house, whether Peter wanted him there or not. He sighed with relief when Paul finally turned onto the next street. He could still sense Paul's deep concern, but there was nothing Peter could do to ease it, except to get past Max's death, and that wasn't going to happen easily.

Memories of the past few months spilled across Peter's thoughts, replaying in their torturous way, leaving him stranded in its ever flowing tide. Too many things had happened way too fast, Peter decided whenever he tried to sort it all out, but not everything had been bad. He'd found his father again and that was something he'd never expected, but mostly the months were filled with painful, even traumatic events. The bitter taste of the bad nearly ruined the flavor of the good. Those hardest to bear were death's indiscriminate visits to his world, stealing away people he loved like Kira Blakemore while also ensnaring those who deserved to die like Tan.

Peter forced himself to shake off his oppressive thoughts and rang the doorbell. He was met by Phoebe a moment later. Her warm smile melted his dark mood the way it always did. He started to step inside to greet her when he faltered. He caught himself by grabbing the door jamb, but not before a palpable surge of rage swirled around him, and tightened like an invisible vise around his throat.

Phoebe put a hand out to steady him. By the time Peter's confused gaze met hers, the moment had passed.

"Are you okay, Peter?" she asked, her expression tight with worry.

"Yeah, sure. Your smile just blinded me for a moment," he said, hoping she wouldn't think he sounded nearly as lame as he thought he did.

"You are still so full of it, Caine," she whispered into his ear as she hugged him.

The embrace threw Peter back to a time when holding her was all he ever wanted to do. His lips brushed against her strawberry blonde hair and the familiar scent of her perfume reinforced his walk down memory lane.

She stood half a foot shorter than him with chocolate brown eyes. Her creamy complexion and engaging smile had bewitched him for months before he went into the academy, but they broke up shortly after graduation. Peter was a little hurt, but not surprised when Marty started seeing her a short time later. Soon, the two eloped to Las Vegas and their overflowing happiness ended any regrets of lost opportunities Peter might have had.

Peter pulled back to look Phoebe in the eyes. "And you are still so beautiful."

He didn't mention how tired she looked, but it was more than tired, she looked bone weary. She shook her head, bringing a hand to his chin and replied with a smirk, "Never argue with an honest man."

Peter reacted with false shock. "Wait a moment, I thought I was full of it."

"I can't help it if you're right part of the time." She patted him on the chest, and then her expression darkened. "Seriously, Peter, how are you doing? I heard about the shooting. Are you sure you should be-"

"I'm fine," he lied as he took her hand from his chest and kissed it.

She gave him a look that told him she wasn't buying it, but then voices from deeper inside the house ended their conversation. Peter looked up to see Ray Peterson, Mike Denton, and JD Barnes standing in the living room beside Marty's reclining wheelchair. Suddenly, the crushing weight that always came with a visit to the Kensington home returned, especially when Peter looked at Marty.

Marty's eyes were open, but they stared unseeing at the ceiling. The man rarely blinked. Most times, he could pass for dead, except for his shallow breathing. It reminded Peter of a kind of living death, and then he corrected himself. No, it was more like a living hell.

Peter shivered. Phoebe frowned and glanced around warily. After a moment, she took his hand and rubbed at it with icy hands of her own. "I'm sorry, it's always so cold in here."

"Come on, Caine, don't just stand there. Come on in and stay a spell," JD, the tall lanky Texan, said in a chiding tone.

Peter smiled at his old friends from the police academy. The good times they shared back then were among Peter's best memories. It was too bad the only time they were assured they'd all be together was on the anniversary of Gordy's death. A gathering to remember a fallen friend. Two friends really, Peter thought as he looked to Marty again.

"Don't think that flesh wound will get you any sympathy here," Mike said as he shook Peter's proffered hand. The Italian from Philadelphia was on the short side at five-foot, seven inches, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for with personality. Mike leaned closer to him, still holding his hand, and whispered, "We only worry about life-threatening wounds around here."

Mike grunted at his own comment, and then his expression grew puzzled. "What possessed you to get on that bus anyway? I heard Stiles nearly went into orbit when he saw you out there."

Peter grunted. "Yeah, well, he did, but if Stiles had gotten his way, I'd be sporting a bullet wound in my leg for insubordination, instead of one in my arm for trying to save a life."

"No shit," JD said, rubbing the back of his neck in disgust. "He would have had you shot to stop you?"

Peter nodded.

"And you still went? Man, I know you are pigheaded, but to go to all that trouble just to play that crazy man's, what was his name...Forrester...to play Forrester's keeper? That's enough to boggle the mind, " Mike said as Peter moved on to shake Ray's hand, and then JD's. "I mean, I remember Max Forrester from the first time you arrested him."

Peter felt a returning flash of guilt over Max's death before he tucked it away. JD must have seen it, because he hit Mike on the arm. "Geez, Denton, don't you know how to keep your danged mouth shut? You know how Peter takes everything to heart!"

Mike frowned and quickly said, "Sorry, Pete."

"It's okay, no big deal," Peter said, licking his lips as he tried to act nonchalant, "I thought I could talk him through the drama of the moment like I did before, but I was wrong."

Mike's frown only deepened. "JD's right. I should just keep my trap shut."

Peter patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, we're all old friends. No hard feelings here."

Mike leaned close to Peter, his dark eyes peering deep into Peter's. "You do know you probably saved the lives of that teacher and her student, in addition to the rest of the kids on that bus, right? Because that's what you did. You saved them all. I was sorry to hear that it ended up the way it did, though. You can't blame yourself for Stiles' actions."

JD made a show of wrapping his hands around Mike's throat, making Peter smile despite the subject matter. "I'm sorry, Peter. I am really, really sorry," Mike said, acting as if he was begging for his life instead of Peter's forgiveness.

Peter chuckled and changed the subject. "Have you monkeys been here long?"

"No, not long. Phoebe was just getting us some beer. You want one?" Ray said as he smoothed his well manicured mustache.

"Sure," Peter replied.

"One more brew, sugar," Ray said loudly in the direction of the kitchen.

"You know you'd think Raymond was from Texas by the way he's been talking," Mike said.

Ray straightened as if offended, and then smirked. "Hey, I'm only practicing. I'm going to visit my uncle in Fort Worth next month and I've got to get the lingo down pat before I leave, or else I'll be pegged for a foreigner the moment my plane lands there."

"You _are_ a foreigner, Peterson. It's just that nobody's ever figured out how foreign you really are," JD piped in. "Trust me, I'm from Texas. There's no way in hell you'd even be able to blink without broadcasting you were from some other place."

"It's that bad?"

"Afraid so."

"Oh well, we all have our curses to bear, Jedidiah Davis," Ray said with a devilish grin, using JD's full name instead of his initials.

"Keep it up, Peterson, and you won't live to make it on that damned plane."

Peter suppressed a smile, knowing it would only irritate JD even more. JD had a real aversion to his given name, but his mother wouldn't let him change it, so he settled on using his initials.

While the others joked, Peter noticed the hickory-toned Pergo flooring. "Hey, nice job, guys," Peter said as he carefully squatted down, trying not to aggravate his injury. He let his fingers run across the faux wood laminate.

"Wish I could say we worked like slaves, but it just clicked together like clockwork. We were done before lunch, so of course we had to hang around for some of Phoebe's famous chicken salad sandwiches," Mike said.

"She is a very good cook," Peter said as he stood, slowly letting out a deep breath in an effort not to broadcast his physical discomfort to the others.

He surveyed the walls of the living room and dining room. Both rooms were done with three cream-colored walls, set off by the last wall done in fern green, and the trim was a darker shade of cream called baked scone. Ray and Peter completed the paint job a few months before.

"It looks very nice with the colors Phoebe chose for the living room and dining room."

"Me and Peter are great painters," Ray said with a chuckle.

"We're okay in the paint department," Peter answered, looking around the room. "It did finish up nicely, though."

There was a large Berber area rug under the furniture that incorporated the colors from the walls and sofa set. The various end tables and walls were lined with pictures of family and friends, along with several shots of Marty and Phoebe together, interspersed with an assortment of thriving house plants and nicknacks accumulated over the course of their time together. They were mementos of another time, virtually another life, Peter thought sadly, as he saw Phoebe stop beside Marty to give him some medication through his feeding tube.

The house's newly redone decor provided a calm and relaxed atmosphere, a refuge from the busy world outside. And maybe it was for Phoebe, only she needed a refuge from her world inside. Peter pursed his lips together as he thought about how much she had given up to keep Marty at home with her.

The boisterous conversation around him pulled Peter away from his observations as the others paused to sit in the living room, surrounding Marty as if he were an active participant in the gathering.

Late afternoon eventually slipped into evening. Phoebe left to turn on some lights and Peter took another sip of his beer.

"Well, now that we know what all of us have been up to for the last year, what do we do next?" Mike asked as he sat back in his chair.

"We remember good friends, both those with us and those who have gone on ahead," Ray said solemnly.

Glasses were raised in a toast, clicking together until everyone joined in. "Gone, but not forgotten," Peter added.

Phoebe backed through the swinging kitchen door, carrying a heavy food laden tray. Approaching the living room, she asked, "Anyone hungry?"

"Now I know why Marty married you, Phebe. You're psychic or something, aren't you?" Ray teased her as he took the tray from her.

"Ray, I've told you repeatedly not to call me Phebe. It sounds too much like plebe, and I've never been to West Point. My name is Phoebe."

"Sure thing, Phebe," Ray said with a wide grin.

Phoebe sighed dramatically. "There's another tray in the kitchen. Just a sec," she said as she turned.

JD stood and headed for the kitchen. "I'll get it for you, darlin'."

Phoebe caught up to him. "I'll help you. There's a lot of food on that tray."

Ray chuckled. "She always forgets how big and strong JD is, and how cute and little she is."

Peter chuckled into his beer. "JD should be the one to watch out. That little lady is a human dynamo, though she looks pretty tired today."

"Yeah, I thought the same thing," Ray said, frowning at the kitchen door.

"It's gotta take its toll on her eventually, no matter how much help she gets around here," Mike said as he started to sample some of the sliced cheese on the first tray.

Ray reached over and slapped Mike's hand. "Stay away from the goodies until Phoebe says it's okay," he said as he grabbed a celery stick and chomped on it with an impish grin.

Mike shrugged, scooping up some black olives. He popped a couple into his mouth and asked, "Hey, remember when Gordy got hold of Marty's little black book and started calling Marty's old girlfriends? He enjoyed every second of telling them he was Marty and wanted to get back together again."

Peter laughed. "Yeah, well, that's the problem with identical twins. They always keep you on your toes."

"I know they kept me guessing," Phoebe said with a chuckle as she followed JD back into the dining room.

JD had the second tray and Phoebe was watching him closely as she trailed behind with more goodies. The Texan slid it beside the first tray and snatched an olive out of Mike's hand. "Hey, you started without us!"

Phoebe didn't seem to notice as she frowned at the coffee table. "You guys sure you want to eat in here? Seems like it would be much easier at the dining table."

Ray shook his head as he started loading his plate with food. "Nah, it's better in here. That way Marty can be with us."

Phoebe paused, smiling sadly as she brushed Marty's bangs away from his face. "Yeah, I like that idea, too."

She bent down and kissed Marty on the forehead, and then leaned over and kissed the top of Ray's head, too.

"What's that for?" Ray asked, looking up at her.

"For being you."

For the next few moments, everyone was involved in getting their food.

"What about Madeline LeTourneau? I thought she was going to scalp Gordy when she found out it wasn't Marty that had taken her out! Shit, I thought she was going to scalp both of them!" Mike said. He began chuckling, and soon the whole group was infected with his laughter.

Peter sat back in his chair, not really hungry. Instead, he watched the others interact, enjoying the relaxed mood of the group. The sadness would soon return to cast a pall over everyone, but, for the moment, they were good friends just kicking back.

Peter took another sip of his beer, and the hanging lamp overhead caught his attention. It was one of Phoebe's creations. He marveled at how her skill had improved over the years. A community college class taken on a whim right after she married Marty had blossomed into a new career. Her blown glass pieces now sold for considerable money, which helped to offset Marty's many medical bills.

Phoebe tried to cover an escaping yawn, but Peter saw it and frowned. She seemed more than tired. She was so tightly wound that she reacted to every little sound. The strange behavior just wasn't Phoebe. Something was wrong. Peter decided he was going to find out what that was before he left for the evening.

He gazed up and the lights above the sofa seemed to flicker off and on. The phenomenon intrigued him. Apparently, the others hadn't noticed it, because they kept telling stories of Marty and Gordy's exploits, but a part of Peter's attention never left the lights. It seemed like every time someone mentioned Gordy or Marty's name, the lights brightened, flaring in intensity before returning to normal.

_You're losing it, Peter. Who cares if the lights flicker?_ he admonished himself.

A friendly voice returned him to the conversation around him.

"Who was it that left the shower running in the locker room and nearly flooded the whole place?" JD asked.

"Marty," Ray answered, "I thought they were going to kick him out of the academy for that one."

"Yeah, but Gordy talked hard and fast with the commanders and they gave Marty a second chance. That man was always pulling Marty's bacon out of the fire. Then again, he was usually responsible for putting it there in the first place," Mike said as he held up his empty beer bottle. "Any takers?"

"Get me one," Ray said. "JD's the designated driver here."

They kept up bantering barbs back and forth, but Peter wasn't listening to them. The brothers' names were mentioned several times as they spoke, and each time, the lights flared again. It seemed too bizarre to be true, but he couldn't shake the feeling he was right.

Phoebe must have noticed his lack of attention and touched his arm. "Don't worry, Peter. Those lights have been doing that a lot lately. I keep meaning to ask an electrician to come over and check it out, but I haven't done it yet."

Peter pulled his gaze away from the lights and looked in her direction. "Don't pay attention to me. I'm just trying to remember who it was that took the police academy's commander's prized medals from his desk..."

He glanced at Mike and was rewarded by a sheepish look. "Ah, Caine, you know the answer to that one. It's a mistake I'll carry with me to my grave."

Then Mike's expression turned morose. "No, the mistake that I'll take with me is letting Dwight Tucker cold-cock me like he did. If only I'd been more on the ball, none of-"

"It wasn't your fault," Peter said quickly, repeating Paul's earlier sentiment. "Men go down in the line of duty. It was just one of those terrible things that happen without warning or reason."

He paused, chewing on his lower lip. "Besides, I'm the only one responsible for what happened that day, not you," he said finally without looking up at the others.

Phoebe touched his arm, drawing him away from his words and back to the group. "Peter, we almost lost you in that blast, too. I don't think I could have handled losing both you and Gordy on the same day, especially with Marty fighting for his life. Please stop blaming yourself for something that was beyond your control."

Peter saw her tears threatening to fall and took Phoebe's hand in his. "I just wish there was something we could have done differently, then all seven of us could be sitting here together, whole like we once were."

"Peter, my grandpappy used to say that wishing for the impossible will only leave you with a hole in your gut that nothing can fill. I think maybe he was right," JD said quietly. "We need to appreciate what we have, not what might have been."

Mike shuddered. "Hey, enough already with the philosophy lesson. You're giving me a headache. You know I don't go in for that touchy-feely stuff. Remember, I grew up in Philly."

"As if we could ever forget with that accent of yours," Ray teased.

"Whatever." Mike tossed some nuts into his mouth and started chuckling. "You are a saint, Phoebe. I mean, how often did those two yahoos put you in the position of having to guess which twin was which?"

"I got pretty good at telling one from the other. Gordy had a sweeter, more goofy disposition while Marty was passionate about everything he did. It also helped that Marty had a small mole behind his left ear."

The others smiled. Mike leaned closer. "Maybe you should have stayed with Caine, Phebe, then you wouldn't have had to guess if the man kissing you was your husband or his twin by his disposition or a mole."

Phoebe laughed. "Yes, well, Peter and I had a lot of fun, but I don't think it ever would have worked out in the long run. We would have driven everyone crazy, including ourselves."

Peter nodded, holding up his glass. "Here, here. When the lady is right, she's right. No, Marty and Phoebe were made for each other."

Phoebe's expression turned melancholy and Peter mentally kicked himself again for putting the sorrow in her eyes. He tightened his grip around her fingers. "We miss them too, Phoebe. We all miss them."

"It's just so hard sometimes. There's so much to deal with. After five years, you'd think it would be easier. I mean, you guys are all great to help out here. I always know I can depend on you to come through for us, but sometimes I think I've lost my mind, especially when I remember how things were between all of us."

Mike didn't say a word, just held up his glass. The others silently joined him in an unspoken toast. The reverent quiet was broken by the tinkling theme from 'The _Twilight Zone_' playing from the center of the room. The muted music seemed to emanate from inside of a trunk sitting beside the coffee table.

Phoebe nearly dropped her plate at the sound. The frantic look in her eyes when she glanced up reminded Peter of a deer caught in a car's headlights. Peter put a hand to her shoulder as Mike got up and went to the trunk. There was a stack of heavy books sitting on top. Ray joined him and they moved aside the books to open the lid when Phoebe stood suddenly. "No, don't open it. Please. It's okay. It's just a music box."

The two men looked at her and frowned as they glanced back to the trunk. There was something knocking from inside, so they went ahead and opened the trunk. Phoebe made a small whimpering sound as she wrung her hands together. Peter touched her arm and looked up at her. She barely noticed him.

Once the chest was open, Peter could see the music box sitting on top of the trunk's contents. Its metallic melody increased in volume now that it was free of interference. Phoebe trembled under Peter's touch as JD said, "Damn, that's just too creepy..."

He said what they'd all been thinking. That TV theme song was Gordy and Marty's signature song. They would whistle, hum, or sing that tune over and over again, never tiring of it. Peter remembered Gordy saying that they'd grown up watching reruns of the show late at night, and that it had left a distinct impression on both of them.

"Phoebe?" Peter said softly.

She seemed unable to pull her gaze away from the trunk. Finally, Peter reached up and took one of her hands in his. It was ice cold. He rubbed it gently. "It's okay."

Mike looked at Ray as they remained beside the trunk. "It's just a coincidence. The contents of this trunk must have settled and that set off the music box."

The two men looked to Peter and Phoebe. In a quiet voice, Phoebe said, "That trunk arrived a few weeks ago from one of Marty's aunts, right after you guys put in the new floor. She said she'd found it in her basement and thought something in that collection of junk might register with Marty. Most of the stuff in there belonged to Marty or Gordy or both."

Peter tried to erase the frown from his expression, forcing enthusiasm into his voice. "Well, then, Mike's right. Something probably shifted and jarred it enough to make it play."

Ray rubbed the back of his neck. "Still, its timing was pretty damned freaky. I mean, it goes off just when a group of Gordy and Marty's old friends get together..."

Phoebe attempted a halfhearted smile. "You guys would probably think I was crazy if I told you things like that have been happening ever since I first opened the trunk. It's almost as if I had opened Pandora's box or something."

Peter bit the inside of his lip. He knew Phoebe too well to know she wasn't exaggerating. Her wavering voice, trembling hands, and the barely suppressed panic in her eyes all confirmed his suspicions. Something frightening was going on in this house, and it was something Phoebe didn't want to admit to the group.

**oOoOoOoOo**

**Chapter 2**


	3. Chapter 3

1

**Chapter Three**

JD sighed. "Well, dang, look at the time. Mike, Ray, we have three sexy ladies waiting for us. We better get moving or we'll be in deep shit. Are you two sure you don't want to join us," he asked.

Phoebe shook her head. "I can't leave-"

Ray shook a finger at Phoebe. "My cousin already volunteered to come over and stay with Marty. Hell, even Marty would have argued that you need to get out every once in a while. He'd never want people feeling sorry for him. He'd want everyone out celebrating instead."

Phoebe frowned. "You may be right, but I can't leave."

"Don't worry, guys, I'll stay with her," Peter said.

Ray gave Peter a guilty glance. "I thought I was supposed to take you home."

"I'll take a cab. Go on, get out of here, so Phoebe and I can talk in peace."

Finally, the three were at the front door and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Smiling, Phoebe said, "Let me turn on some lights in the driveway while I see them off. That's one thing I hate about autumn, it's barely 6:30 and it's already dark out there."

She left Peter alone with Marty. Peter could hear an extended conversation going on out on the driveway. Mike and Ray began serenading her and Peter could hear her laughter. The sound was as refreshing as rain drops on drought ridden soil. The woman didn't laugh like she used to. He stood and peeked out the curtains. JD was whirling Phoebe around in a dance while the other two followed them singing. Peter shook his head and chuckled.

Looking back to Marty, he said, "That's quite a group we've got, you know?"

He sat and leaned closer to Marty's wheelchair. "We never knew how lucky we were to have them in our graduating class, huh? Those guys are true blue, not like-"

Peter stopped himself, surprised at what he was about to say. "Not like me," he voiced finally, the misery of the past week descending upon him in full force.

Who was he trying to fool? It wasn't just last week, but everything jumbled together from the past few months. It seemed the more time that passed, the more his life became a waking nightmare. Peter stood again and began to pace back and forth in front of the coffee table, finally returning to stand beside Marty's wheelchair.

"I've been thinking a lot about you and Gordy this week, and not just because of the anniversary. I've been thinking a lot about past mistakes, things I might have done differently, and the people I've let down."

Phoebe came through, startling Peter. "Give me just another moment. I want to start the dishwasher and put my hair up in a ponytail. It's driving me crazy."

"Take your time," Peter called back to her, hoping she didn't hear the tremble in his voice.

He looked to Marty again. The man seemed so much older than his years and so fragile, nothing like the Marty he'd known. The eeriest part was how Marty sat, just staring into space, as if he were deep in thought, forever caught in that pose. It was only a fluke that Marty had been hit harder by the explosion than Peter, a fluke that permanently changed the course of the lives of those who knew him.

"I know I say this every time I come to visit, but it's true. I'm so damned sorry about not being able to save Gordy or knock you clear of that explosion."

He reached for his beer to keep himself from crying. After a long swallow, he sat the empty bottle back on the coffee table. He ran his hand through his hair before he found the words he'd been struggling to say. "I really screwed up last week, Marty. Someone died on my watch. Some crazy yokel that needed to be locked away, but he didn't deserve to die. You-you never would have allowed that. Neither would Gordy. I'm not even sure I should continue being a cop."

Peter rubbed a hand over his face.

"But it's more than just that..." he said. He paused before chewing on his lower lip. "To hang around Peter Caine, deliverer of death and injury, is to invite certain misery into your life."

He sighed. "It seems like people are always getting hurt or dying around me. I'm tired of it, Marty. I'm just tired of it all."

Tears welled in Peter's eyes with that admission and he knitted his eyebrows together in a determined effort to keep them from falling. He sat on the sofa again and leaned toward Marty, trying to inject more enthusiasm than he felt, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to fool with that act, Marty or himself.

"Anyway, that's enough about me. Phoebe's doing all right. She's made a real life here for the two of you, doing the things that give her joy, like her glass working, while still being close to you. She's always been a trouper. Even when she was still with me, she had enough energy to drive me into the ground."

Peter paused in thought. "I think Gordy would be really proud of her, too. I mean the way she keeps on going in spite of everything."

The overhead lights flickered. Peter glanced up at them and back to Marty. His blue-green eyes looking out from underneath a shock of blond hair never moved, but then how could they? The man's EEG readings were far from normal.

Peter folded his arms in front of him as he sat back on the sofa. He always spoke to Marty out of habit, even though part of him knew Marty would never be able to respond. Hell, Peter wasn't even sure anything he'd said ever got through to his old friend, but he always tried to talk to him as he had before Marty was injured.

A book fell from the built-in bookcase. Peter got up to retrieve it. As he bent down, the book slowly rose from the carpet to his hand. It happened so quickly, Peter was startled into silence. He hefted the book in one hand as he straightened, pausing to read its title, _I'm Okay. You're Okay_.

Peter whistled softly as he glanced around the room. "Glad you're okay, buddy, because I'm having a little trouble right now."

A gentle breeze seemed to dance around him and Peter closed his eyes without meaning to. He felt a sense of peace with the shifting wind, as if his heart was reacting with something he couldn't see, but definitely felt. The peace it brought had been something almost denied to him in recent months and it was much welcomed. He sighed as he lingered in its presence for another moment.

_You're losing it, Caine,_ he told himself, _grasping at straws instead of real peace_.

Finally, he returned the book to its place, and went back to the sofa, feeling slightly better than he had a moment before. Looking to Marty again and then the overhead lights, Peter asked, "Say, Marty, do you remember when Gordy took your motorcycle apart and put it back together in the bathroom of your apartment?"

The lights flared with Gordy's name, making Peter scratch his forehead. "And when Phoebe thought it was me at the front door to our place, and she answered it wearing nothing but a smile, only to find you standing there instead of me? I thought Gordy was going to bust a gut laughing over that one."

Again the lights flickered more brightly, and Peter sat up with anticipation. He was intrigued by the phenomenon.

Before he could pursue it further, a frigid wave of oppressive anger washed over him, leaving him feeling french-fried in its wake. "Whoa," he whispered as he blinked and looked around. He found nothing out of the ordinary, and yet Peter was deeply disturbed by the occurrence. "What the hell was that?"

As his gaze darted around the room again, a heavy photo album sitting on the far end table fell off without a push. The sight made Peter shiver with trepidation, and then he realized he was only shivering from the increased cold in the room.

Rubbing his hands together, he chided himself, "It's just a photo album. Pick it up, Peter, before Phoebe has to do it."

He tried to figure out why his momentary sense of peace had evaporated with the unexpected appearance of the cold. He felt about as agitated as ants on the trail of abandoned cotton candy at the fairgrounds, hardly able to stay in one place for more than a second. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. The longer Peter was there, the more sure he was there was something wrong with the house itself.

Shaking his head, he stood and walked over to where the album lay. He bent to retrieve it from the floor and muttered, "This whole night has been too damned weird."

Suddenly, the metallic-covered album came rushing up and hit Peter squarely in the solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs. The album fell to the ground unnoticed as Peter went down to his knees. He stayed there, bent slightly forward, and gasping as one hand went to his wounded arm now aching from the abrupt jolt, and the other to his stomach.

Without warning, the photo album moved again. It clipped Peter on the right temple as it whipped upward, and then it crashed against the far end of the sofa. Peter reeled from the blow, groaning as he fell forward, fighting to control his balance. He had both hands on the floor now and stayed like that for a long moment, working hard not to give into unconsciousness or nausea. Finally, he shook his head to clear his hazy vision just as Phoebe came into the room.

"Peter!" she cried as she rushed to his side.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," Peter rasped, now feeling strong enough to lift his hands from the floor. They quickly went to his newly acquired sore spots, one hand pressed itself against his stomach while the other went to his head.

He felt Phoebe's grip on his shoulder tighten. "Like hell you are. I'm calling the para-"

"No, really," he said, forcing air in and out of his lungs, and went on to lie again. "I just lost my balance."

She turned his head to look at his pupils. "You aren't fine, not by a long shot. You're pale as a ghost and bleeding," she said firmly. "How did you cut your forehead like that?"

With her assistance, he managed to get to the couch, and then he quickly sagged back against its overstuffed cushions.

"I'll be right back," Phoebe said in a rush.

"I'm not going anywhere," Peter muttered as he gingerly probed the area around the gash on his forehead with his fingertips. The damned thing throbbed like someone was playing a rhythm solo on his skull. He looked at the heavy photo album sitting innocently at the end of the sofa.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked the silent room.

He closed his eyes with a wave of vertigo. Once again, he prayed he wouldn't pass out. Phoebe didn't need to deal with that. The next thing he knew, she was beside him again. Her hands shook as she held a damp washcloth to his forehead. "How did you get this cut?"

She pulled the washcloth back to show him the blood that had already been soaked up by the absorbent cloth, and then she set about wiping the trail of blood running down from his temple to his neck.

"Doesn't matter how," he said, forcing strength he didn't feel into his voice. "It's nothing. Please stop worrying about me."

"It seems like worry is all I can do anymore," she whispered as she continued to dab at his face.

Peter caught one of her hands and squeezed. "That's not the Phoebe I remember."

"That Phoebe isn't around anymore," she said sadly. "Life just got to be too much for that free spirit."

"No, it didn't. I know she's in there somewhere."

Phoebe didn't argue. She merely squeezed her lips together in a tight line as she began to wipe the blood from Peter's fingers. Peter took the washcloth from her and set it on the coffee table. He gently clasped her hands in his, rubbing them before she put her head on his chest. He took her into his arms and she dissolved in his hold. He let her cry, knowing she needed the release, and it wasn't just because of the scare he'd given her.

"I'm so sorry," she said finally, wiping at the tears on her face.

Peter kissed her on the forehead. "You've got nothing to apologize for."

She wrapped her arms around him again as the tears started falling again. It hurt Peter to hear the tiny gasps that followed her intense crying. Finally, she pulled away. "Look at me, crying while you could be dying from a concussion."

"It's not that bad."

"Well, you're leaking blood all over your white sweater," she said as she wiped at the garment. "I remember that sweater. Annie gave that to you for your birthday a few years back."

She returned to the task of stemming the bleeding at his temple by pressing the washcloth to it. He hissed with the discomfort, but didn't pull away. He recognized her nervous chitchat but didn't say anything. Instead, he remained quiet as she spoke, "I was raised to be strong, and not sob at the drop of a hat. My grandmother would turn over in her grave at the sight of me carrying on like I just did..."

Peter put a finger under her chin and turned her head toward him. "You are an amazing woman, Phoebe Jordan Kensington, no matter how hard you try to escape the truth. I've never met anyone stronger, except maybe my father."

She smiled wistfully as she folded the bloodied washcloth into a neat rectangle. "I need a fresh washcloth. I think I have some sponge dressings around here. Heck, we could practically open a medical supply store with all the things we've accumulated since Marty was hurt." She sighed. "The sponges should soak up the blood better than that washcloth..."

Peter touched her arm and shook his head. "Phoebe, I don't care about a little blood."

Her eyes shimmered again as she pressed the folded washcloth to his head. "Well, I do. I don't want you bleeding on my new couch. Hold this tight while I'm gone."

He sighed, but released her to do what she needed to do. She was back a few moments later. When she was satisfied that the bleeding had slowed, she taped a makeshift dressing over his temple. Without looking at him, she asked, "Does that new girlfriend of yours love you as much as I loved you back then?"

The question took Peter by surprise, and then he nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Her head dipped down a moment later, making Peter's smile grow winsome. He bent down to catch her gaze again, hooking a finger under her chin to lift her eyes to meet his. "We did love each other for a while, didn't we, Phebe?"

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Time slowed to a crawl as he imagined what his life would have been like if they'd stayed together. As he was lost in the land of might-have-beens, a distant part of him became aware of a sudden rush of air. With it, came a very real sense of danger. He reacted a moment ahead of it by pushing Phoebe down between the sofa and the coffee table before he threw himself over her.

The circular canopy of handmade lights overhead blew in a spectacular shower of sparks and glass. Phoebe screamed and Peter wrapped his arms around her more tightly, grunting when the stitches in his arm protested the abrupt movement, but his confusion was the more pressing issue.

The room was cast into shadows and shapes in the ensuing darkness. Peter looked around, stopping at the trunk. For a moment, he thought he saw one of the shadowy shapes move. He slowly rose to his knees, and then gave Phoebe a hand to get up. She wound up supporting most of his weight by the time he stood. When he looked back, the shape was gone.

"Marty," Phoebe said in a rush.

"Ah, shit," Peter muttered as he turned to see shards littering Marty's hair and face, but amazingly no blood. He knelt beside Marty as Phoebe began brushing the glass from Marty's hair.

"It's a miracle he wasn't cut or scratched by the flying glass..." she whispered.

"Wish I could say the same for you," Peter said as he looked at some cuts on her arms.

"I'm fine," she said, stopping him. "That was too damned scary. I guess I should have had the electrician out here long before today. Now my creation of light and color is destroyed, but at least no one was seriously hurt. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am. Now, relax."

Peter put a hand to her shoulder. Phoebe placed a hand over his and sighed. "What in the hell just happened?"

"I've asked myself that question repeatedly over the last few minutes...You said something about strange occurrences happening around here ever since that trunk arrived?"

She nodded.

"I think we better talk."

**oOoOoOoOo**

"It's almost as if Gordy's ghost was in that trunk, reaching out from beyond the grave, but he isn't his old happy-go-lucky self. At least, not with the really weird stuff that's been going on. I can almost touch the anger and malevolence I feel coming from him," Phoebe said a short time later as she used a small brush to sweep the broken glass from the cushions of the sofa into a dust pan. She finished by rounding up the few lingering pieces of glass on the floor that had been missed.

"And yet...sometimes it feels so much like Gordy, so real that I expect to see him standing in the doorway, just grinning at me the way he used to do."

"Gordy? You're sure it's Gordy?" Peter asked, looking up from Marty's side. Phoebe had already checked Marty for injuries. Now, Peter was looking for stray fragments of glass after moving Marty's wheelchair away from the sofa, so that Phoebe could work more easily.

"I don't know how I know, but I do. At least, I'm pretty sure it's him when the mood isn't so angry. In fact, there's a playfulness that's classic Gordy," she said as she lit a candle on the coffee table. "But the moods are becoming more violent. I mean, just look at you."

She froze and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, Peter, will you listen to us? We're talking like there really are things such as ghosts."

Peter grimaced, still hurting from the attacks of a bodiless assailant. "I don't know, for a figment of our imagination, that 'ghost' felt pretty damned real."

He rubbed his neck. "You've always had an intuitive way about you. I'd trust your instincts over most other people's. Tell me more."

"I wish I had your confidence." She sighed before continuing. "Every night, right before I get ready to go to bed, and just after I get Marty down for the night, that music box starts playing the _Twilight Zone_. There's no one else in the house except Marty and me, and I know he couldn't turn it on. Then there's the baseball glove and ball. It's always lying on the table when I get up in the morning. And the rose from our garden is left on my night stand each day..."

She swallowed as if suddenly frightened. "As bizarre as it sounds, I think Gordy's ghost really came with that trunk. It's crazy, but it's the only thing that makes any sense."

Peter rubbed a thumb against his lower lip. "And nothing like this happened before the trunk arrived?"

Phoebe shook her head.

"Anything else?"

"Isn't that enough?" She closed her eyes as if waging some internal debate. "Do foul odors and loud knocking in the dead of night count?"

"It does in my book. Maybe I should have my father come over. He might be able to help."

"You mean your real father? Not Paul?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, him. I think he's more equipped to deal with something like this than Paul is."

"Why?" Phoebe asked, moving closer to him.

"It's hard to explain. He just has a way about him."

"Well, if you think he could help." She glanced around. "Let me get some more candles. I don't have enough light bulbs to replace all of the ones that blew out."

She stood, and then paused, staring again at her chandelier now destroyed. Peter stood and put a hand on her shoulder. "You can make another one, Phebe."

"Yeah, I know," she said with a shrug, and her old indomitable resolve popped back in place. "I'll only be a moment."

She started to leave the room, carrying one lit candle and leaving Peter with one burning on the coffee table. Peter called out to her as her shoes crunched on the glass under foot, "Be careful."

"Always," she replied, and then disappeared into the kitchen in search of candles.

Peter glanced over at Marty, and then rubbed at his sore stomach again. He straightened when he thought he heard something from the direction of the trunk. The room's temperature dropped twenty degrees in a matter of seconds, and the candle in front of him went out without a draft to disturb it.

"Ah, crap, here we go again," he whispered as his fingers tightened into fists.

He didn't move for a long moment, not quite sure what to do next, especially when his exhalations started coming out in foggy puffs. He went to stand, but then felt something cold hit him hard in the back and he went down, just missing Marty's wheelchair. His face smashed against the area rug. The unmistakable taste of blood in his mouth irritated him more than anything else as he cursed the photo album resting a foot from his head. He shoved it under the sofa as he whispered, "I've had enough of you."

As he rose, he wiped at the moisture at his nose with the back of his hand. In the dim moonlight, the smear of red across the back of his hand stood out like a roadside flare. He stopped in mid-motion when he thought he sensed movement in the darkness.

"Gordy?" Peter asked softly, then cringed when he moved his injured arm the wrong way. Rubbing his arm, he asked again, "Gordy, is that you?"

The room's temperature dropped even more, and then he felt what Phoebe had described. A dark fomenting hatred that spewed and roiled toward him from the doorway of the dining room, bringing an added blackness to the room already shrouded in shadows.

Peter was still trying to understand what was happening when a curio cabinet next to the dining room entrance tipped over, shattering its contents as it crashed to the floor, just barely missing Peter's head. He was rolling to get away from it when a lamp on a nearby end table exploded.

"What the hell?" he said, scooting backwards on his butt past the coffee table heading toward the center of the room.

He didn't see the trunk's lid fly open behind him, but its heavy lid struck him on the back of the head and he went down hard. He heard Phoebe's frantic shouts right before the darkness claimed him.

**oOoOoOoOo**

The heavy smell of candle wax in the air made Peter think he was back in the temple decades before. He coughed, and then groaned, but stopped when he realized someone was with him. His awakening injuries vied for his attention, but he quickly sorted out his surroundings when he saw Phoebe kneeling over him, and realized the bone chilling cold was gone.

"Wh-what happened?" he asked finally.

She sat back. "You tell me."

"I-I must have passed out," he whispered. He gingerly felt the lump on the back of his head, then he noticed the tears on Phoebe's cheeks. Damn, once again, he'd made her cry.

"I think you hit your head on the trunk when you fell. How long have you been having these fainting spells?" she asked as she put a trembling hand to his shoulder.

"Fainting?" he asked, still rubbing the back of his head, and then the painful memory of flying photo albums, falling curio cabinets, and heavy trunk lids shoved away all other thoughts.

Phoebe's gaze swept around the candle-lit room. "What happened in here? I was only gone a moment and then I heard a loud crashing noise. When I came in here, you were on the floor..."

The room suddenly grew cold again, and Phoebe looked around in confusion. "What's going on?" she asked with apprehension, her voice reflecting her increasing fear.

Peter shook his head. He started to rise up on his elbows, but fell back instead, groaning loudly. He grabbed at his injured arm as he hissed, "Son of a bitch!"

"Don't move. I called 911," Phoebe said firmly.

Peter closed his eyes in frustration. "They'll just cart me off to the hospital and we won't get to the bottom of what's happening here. Besides, this isn't something 911 can handle. I want my father to come over, but until then, it's not safe for you here. We need to leave. Now."

"But Marty..."

"Don't worry, we'll take Marty, too."

Peter tried to sit up, but couldn't. It felt like there was a huge weight sitting right on top of his bullet wound. He glanced down at his arm, and his mouth dropped open. Blood was spreading out across the upper arm of his white pullover sweater like a growing bright red badge, a visual reminder of his recent injury.

"Peter?" Phoebe asked as she put a hand to his chest.

His breath came in rapid gasps. He tried to force the pain away, but failed. If anything, the pressing weight was getting worse.

"Peter, what's the matter?"

"I don't know," he said through clenched teeth, "It feels like someone is grinding their steel-toed boot into my arm. It hasn't hurt this bad since I was shot. What the hell is happening..."

He managed to get in one more quick breath before his arm exploded in pain, and then he felt nothing at all.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	4. Chapter 4

1

**Chapter Four**

Peter's mouth was dry. It felt like he should swallow, but that would require more energy than he had. His consciousness faded in and out, vaguely aware of familiar voices in the background, along with the distinct scent of antiseptic and bandages. He heard a page for a doctor and decided he was back in the hospital again.

_Damn_, he thought, _how'd I get here?_

Then Paul's quiet voice drew his attention. "There was a botched robbery at a jewelry store at the Seville Mall. Peter and several other units were called in to secure the exits and facilitate the evacuation of the innocents."

He sighed. "The ringleader of the robbery, Dwight Tucker, managed to get away from the others and tried to escape in the throng of people leaving the mall. Mike Denton stopped him. Tucker caught him off guard and knocked him out before making a run for it. Gordy, Marty and Peter were hot on his heels, along with a half dozen other cops.

"A shootout followed. Unfortunately, it took place on a loading dock where they had big rigs unloading a large shipment of combustible products: paint, thinners, that kind of thing. One of Tucker's bullets hit a canister and caused a chain reaction. Everything went up in a terrific blast, killing Tucker and Gordy, maiming Marty, and nearly killing Peter. Two other uniformed cops and three civilians working in the area were killed, and several more were injured. The place looked like it had been bombed."

Peter cracked open his eyes just a fraction, regretting the soft light that burned with the sudden light, but it was worth it to cast away the vivid pictures replaying in his mind.

Kermit had his hands on his hips as he said, "So that's it? They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got their butts kicked for doing their job?"

"Yeah, it was a tragedy all the way around," Paul said as he walked away, crossing the room to a window. Paul did that when he was working through a problem, as if staring out a window would center his thoughts, and it usually did.

After a moment, Paul said, "I keep thinking of the bizarre things Phoebe described on the phone when I called her. They make no sense at all. I'm not one to believe in ghosts. There's got to be a logical explanation."

Kermit folded his arms in front of him and spoke in one of his more sarcastic tones, "Sure, there's probably some other logical explanation for why Peter got the shit kicked out of him in a locked house where the only other occupants were an invalid and petite housewife. We just have no idea what it is."

Paul's glare was withering. Kermit withstood it, albeit not happily, and then walked to where Paul stood. "Sorry. This is no time to be joking around. Don't worry, Paul. Between you, me, and Caine, we'll get to the bottom of this mystery, no matter how bizarre the situation."

"Peter's been through enough lately, he really doesn't need to deal with more. The last few months have been hell for him. A person can only handle so much before-"

"Paul, you worry too damned much," Peter muttered as he brought a hand up to shade his eyes before opening them all the way. The softly lit room slowly came into focus.

"With you, a person can't worry enough," Paul said the words as if joking, but there was a grim cast to his expression as he came to stand beside Peter's bed.

Peter lowered his hand and stared at Paul. Something Paul had said triggered a vague memory and he reached for Paul. "Phoebe...I was talking to her before I passed out. What happened after that? Is she okay?"

Paul nodded. "She called for the paramedics and waited with you until they arrived."

"Did she stay at home with Marty?"

"Yes," Paul replied with a slight frown. "Why?

Peter let his hand drop back to the bed. "I'd feel a lot better if someone was with her and Marty. Something's really wrong in that house."

"Define really wrong."

"I think you already know what I mean by really wrong, but if you need for me to say it, I think we're dealing with some type of supernatural phenomena."

Paul's frown didn't go away, but it didn't increase either. He folded his arms in front of him. "We'll get back to that in a minute. Phoebe and Marty are okay for the time being, and they aren't alone. A neighbor came over. I spoke to Phoebe by phone shortly after I arrived here. She's worried about you, but fine."

Peter grimaced when he shifted wrong, and then ignored the pain as he asked, "Could you try to get a hold of Mike, Ray, or JD? I would really prefer one of us stay with them right now."

Paul put a hand on Peter's forearm. "Is that really necessary?"

Peter nodded.

"I'll take care of it," Kermit said, and walked out of the room.

Peter took a deep breath, rubbing at the fringes of the bandage covering his temple, and then paused.

"What is it?"

"My father. He might be able to help figure out what's going on there."

Paul smiled. "Strenlich's already looking for him and the Ancient. Whatever's happening there sounds like it's out of my league and closer to that of a Shaolin priest, but neither your father nor Lo Si were home. Isn't that a little strange this late on a Sunday evening?"

"Nothing is strange when it comes to my father, but I don't have a clue where they might be."

"Leave that to us. We'll find them. Now, explain your version of supernatural phenomenon..."

Peter cleared his throat. "I wish I could. Something attacked me at the house, but I can't describe it. I can tell you one thing. It was mad as hell and took its rage out on me."

Paul pursed his lips together, but didn't say anything.

Peter groaned softly. "I just lost you, didn't I?"

Paul shook his head. "No, that's not fair, son. There have been times in the past when I wasn't sure where you were going with a certain notion, but I trusted you to find your way through. That hasn't changed. I still trust you. But you have to trust me, too. I deal in the practical realm...understanding the supernatural just isn't in my rule book."

"It's not exactly my cup of tea either," Peter said, and then paused.

He looked around the room for some reference to time. It was dark outside. Judging by the soft lights and quiet in the hallway outside his room, it was pretty late, but he couldn't discern much more than that.

"What time is it?" he asked finally.

Paul glanced at his watch. "Too damned late."

"Am I keeping you up?" Peter said with a smirk.

Paul shook a finger at him. "Yes, you are, but I'm used to it by now."

Paul sat down on the edge of Peter's bed and patted Peter on the leg. "Seriously, it's not that late. It's just a little after eleven."

"Eleven? Geez, that means I've been out for over four hours."

"Well, you weren't in the best of shape when they brought you in. I'm surprised you're even awake now. The doctor said you might out for several more hours."

Peter didn't answer. His thoughts seemed to be crawling along and he had to scramble to keep up with their slow pace.

"Why don't you tell me more about what happened there?"

Peter closed his eyes, trying to recreate the events in his head. It all seemed so incredible. And yet he knew his pragmatic foster father would have far more difficulty understanding it.

"Peter? Are you okay?" Paul touched Peter's chest, his voice much closer now.

Peter forced his eyes open. "Sorry, I didn't mean to space out on you. I'm just trying to make sense of what happened."

"What I heard from Phoebe sounded pretty strange."

"That's an understatement," Peter said as he rubbed his arm again. He was surprised to find goose bumps on his chilled flesh. "Is it really cold in here or is it me?"

Paul glanced around, as if noticing the cold for the first time. "Yeah, now that you mention it. Hold on, I saw another blanket in the closet."

Peter was shivering by the time Paul spread the blanket over him. "This is the way it happened before. Everything got cold and then..."

"And then what?" Paul moved closer. "What is it, Peter? Is that arm bothering you?"

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the cold left the room and Peter released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He decided he wouldn't get into the dangers associated with the cold with Paul. Finally, he shook his head. "No, it's okay. The arm doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it did at Marty's."

"The doctors had to go back in and stop the bleeding. What caused the wound to open up again in the first place?"

Peter paused, his hand unconsciously moving back to cradle the injured limb. "I don't know. It sure felt like someone was stomping on my arm."

"Well, don't worry about it now. Between the arm and those bumps on your head, the doctors want to keep you overnight for observation."

Kermit came back into the room. "I was able to reach Mike Denton. He said he'd go over and sit with Marty so Phoebe could get some rest. She sounded pretty frazzled when I told her to expect him."

Kermit moved closer to the bed, "How are you doing, kid?"

"I'm fine, more than a little bewildered, but fine. Thanks for making the arrangements."

As he finished speaking, Peter yawned. The returning warmth to the room had sapped his energy. He forced his eyelids open when Kermit said, "By the sound of things, you aren't alone in the bewildered department."

Peter yawned again and Paul smiled. When Peter looked up at him, he said, "It's the medication, Peter, don't fight it. Just close your eyes and rest. One of us will stay with you tonight."

"Don't need to," Peter said, frowning at the sleepiness in his voice.

"Yes, we do, son. Maybe when you wake up, you can go into further detail about what happened at the house."

Peter wanted him to warn Mike to be careful of the shadows that moved in the dark at the Kensington home, but he was fighting against his growing fatigue. Finally, the urge to sleep was too great. Before he knew it, he drifted away on the sails of slumber, leaving behind the confusing and conflicting details of the night's happenings.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	5. Chapter 5

1

**Chapter Five**

Peter walked into Phoebe's house and looked around. When he didn't see her, he called her name. Something wasn't right. The place was dark and empty. It didn't feel like anyone was around, but something in the living room drew his attention. It was the trunk, and its lid was sitting open. About then, the _Twilight Zone_ theme began to play again.

He licked his lips and said, "Gordy?"

When there was no immediate response, he frowned, and then surprised himself by calling out another name, "Marty?"

A form appeared over the trunk and slowly came into focus. He watched mesmerized as the shapeless form coalesced into something familiar. Peter recognized the face, but wasn't sure which brother he was talking to. The figure smiled sadly. Something in that smile gave Peter a clue and he asked, "Gordy? Is that you?"

The figure nodded. "Yeah, it's me, Peter."

Peter wasn't quite sure how to proceed, he'd never talked to a ghost before. Finally, he opted for humor, which was one of Gordy's more prominent personality traits. "How do I know for sure that you aren't Marty?"

"Still harping on that identical twin thing after all this time? Get real, Peter, I'm dead and Marty isn't. Don't you know a ghost when you see one?"

Peter had to smile despite the bizarre nature of their encounter. Gordy's sense of humor gave new life to a vein of friendship Peter had thought had been closed off long ago. "I guess so. Where's Phoebe?"

"She's sleeping."

Peter looked hard at Gordy. "Is she okay?"

"I think so."

"Good." Peter hesitated. "Gordy?"

"Yeah?"

"I've always wanted a chance to talk to you...about Marty," Peter began slowly, but then his words started coming out in a rush. "Maybe if I had seen what Tucker was up to sooner, I could have saved you and Marty wouldn't have lost his legs-"

"Don't, Peter," Gordy said slowly. "Don't second guess yourself. Shit happens. We know that better than most, but now I know it all happens for a reason, no matter how hard that reason is to accept. I mean, if you knew that explosion was going to happen, you'd do everything possible to stop us from being there...no matter how it fell into the grand scheme of things.

"But by not being there, we could have thrown off events that are meant to happen, things to bring joy to some, pain to others, and growth to still more. The difficulties in life aren't meant as a punishment, instead they provide a path of enlightenment to those who experience them, for those willing to accept it."

Peter glanced around, half-expecting his father to step out from one of the shadows and agree with Gordy, but it didn't happen. He cleared his throat and said, "This is a change for you, Gordy. You never used to be so philosophical."

"We're talking about a whole different ballpark here, bud, and don't change the subject." Gordy looked Peter directly in the eye. "You've always taken too much upon your shoulders and probably always will. Just try not to second guess yourself. It just ain't worth it."

Peter stared back at Gordy and whispered, "There's so many things I could have-"

"Fergetaboutit," Gordy said, doing his best mafia tough guy imitation. "Take it from someone who knows."

Peter smiled at Gordy's quirky sense of humor, reveling in his presence once again, but then the brief flash of happiness vanished with his next thought. "Some strange things have been happening here."

Gordy nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Peter took a step closer to the ghostly apparition. "Are you behind them?"

Gordy looked chagrined. "You mean the jokes? Hey, I was just fooling around. I was going crazy, because I couldn't reach anyone, and I guess I resorted to some foolish pranks."

"I wouldn't call what happened to me pranks, Gordy. That photo album didn't throw itself at me. Neither did that curio cabinet or trunk lid. I wound up in the hospital because of them."

"Hospital? I don't understand..." Gordy searched Peter's gaze for answers, pausing as his expression grew more confused, and then his mood shifted, reflecting a blend of hurt and shock. "Wait a minute! You mean you were in the hospital because of something you thought I did? Come on, Peter, I'd never hurt you. You meant too much to both me and Marty. Besides, all I can do is levitate small things and get that damned music box to play. I can't do much beyond that."

Peter pointed at the bandage on his temple. "Well, if it wasn't you who did this, then who was it?"

Gordy looked puzzled. "I swear I didn't know about it until now."

"Did your spirit arrive with that trunk from your aunt's in Montana?"

Gordy nodded. "Yeah, I guess the trunk drew me back here, but there was also something else."

Peter frowned. "Something else?"

Gordy nodded, tensing as if concentrating very hard. "I don't know quite how to explain it. Something drew me back to look for Marty again."

"Again? You mean you were here before?"

"Yeah, right after everything happened, you know, when I died. Marty wasn't here that time either. I waited for a long time, but he never showed up."

"He was in the hospital for nearly a year after the blast," Peter said with a pang of guilt. He scratched the back of his neck. "So you couldn't stay until he got home again?"

"Without Marty, there wasn't enough to hold me here. I tend to fade in and out from your world to the other side. Sorry, I can't explain it any better than that."

"Why were you looking for Marty?"

"Because I could feel he needed me. He's in pain."

"You can feel Marty's pain? You mean, like right now?"

Gordy blinked. "Yeah, it's something I can feel from a distance, almost like touching your cheek when the dentist's novocaine is wearing off. But...his pain is also mixed with anger."

"Then he's-he's not out of it? I mean, Marty's aware of what's going on around him?"

"That's what I think, but I can't reach him to know for sure."

"You haven't talked to him?"

Gordy looked surprised. "No, I've been trying, but like I just said, I can't reach him. Something's blocking me. It's weird. I can reach Phoebe so easily. She noticed the things I've been doing, so I tried harder to get her attention, and it was worked a little. When you were there with the rest of the guys, I tried again, but I couldn't generate enough force to really get your attention."

"Oh, you got our attention," Peter said with a smirk.

"Yeah, but it was just cheap parlor tricks. I wanted to do more. I wanted you to know I was there with the rest of you guys, but all I could do was move little things. And forget about trying to talk you. But you saw what I was doing though, didn't you? Even more than Phoebe did. I always said you'd make a great cop, because of the way you notice the little details...but it's more than that. Geez, it's so obvious to me now, I don't know why I couldn't see it when I was alive. You have a gift to look beyond what others can see."

Peter stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head. "I'm just a cop, Gordy, nothing more."

Gordy's gaze went distant. "I wish I was stronger here. I can't stay on this side as much as the other guy. He's much stronger than anyone I've met so far on the other side."

"The other guy?"

"Yeah, there's another guy here." Gordy shrugged. "I don't know why," he paused. "He wasn't here the first time I came for Marty, but he was here when I came back. He's still here and he's mad. Maybe he's part of the reason why I'm here."

"I'm sorry, Gordy, but I'm not following you. If this other guy is the reason why you're back, then why don't you know who he is?"

Gordy glanced up at Peter, his fingers snapping together as his expression darkened. "Dammit! It was him, Peter! He's the one who attacked you!"

"The other guy?"

"Yeah."

"But why? What have I done to him?"

"I don't have all the answers, but I know it was him. I can feel it now. He hates you."

"Again, I have to ask why?"

"I don't know, but you can bet he knows. And it's more than just hatred. He wants to hurt you bad."

Peter took a deep breath and thought about what Gordy was telling him. He really didn't want to ask his next question, but he had to. "How do you know that the other guy isn't really Marty?"

Gordy looked stunned. He stammered for a moment, and then answered, "Because I'd know! I'd just know! Damn it! We were twins! We've always thought alike and I can tell you Marty would never...never intentionally hurt a friend, especially someone as close as you."

Peter didn't press the point, but he mumbled, "Maybe."

"Believe it! Besides, he's not dead!"

Peter kept his tongue, but he didn't share Gordy's confidence. If it wasn't Marty, then who was it that kicked the crap out of him earlier? Marty had always been the hothead of the two brothers. Still, was that enough to start pointing fingers?

"Okay, Peter, let's both just take a deep breath and think about this for a moment. Like they used to say at the academy, list all of the known facts in a case, no matter how small or large, and the clues will lead you to the criminal. Unfortunately, events that happen after death aren't as easily explained as you might think. Certain things don't translate well into words...they blend from one thing to another. It's not a linear process, but something more felt than known."

"Let's play it your way," Peter said after a minute. "Well, let's say Marty isn't behind this. How did you first meet the other guy?"

"He found me once when I was crossing over from the other side and he's been with me ever since, whether I want him around or not. I don't know who he is, but I get a sense that he's older. Maybe really old."

"And he has some type of control over what you can and cannot do?"

"In a way. Think of me as a baby spirit, one who can only do a few things for myself. The other guy is more like an adult in comparison to me."

A light went on in Peter's head. "Why are you able to talk to me now, and not before?"

Gordy smirked. "That's because you're asleep, buddy. You're still in the hospital, but in your dreams, you went searching for me and you found me. That's how I can talk to you now."

Peter was about to ask Gordy more when something cold and hard grabbed him around the throat and began to squeeze. This was no dream. Peter couldn't see a face, just a dark form looming above him and it was trying to crush the life out of him.

"Gordy, help..." Peter managed to rasp before the pressure around his throat made it impossible for him to say more.

"Peter!" Gordy shouted, trying to get closer. "It's him! It's that other guy!"

Peter wanted to say, "No shit, Sherlock," but couldn't. He was too busy trying to breathe. His senses were being bombarded by both a physical and emotional attack. The physical was cutting off his air; the emotional was a hatred so overwhelming, that alone was enough to send him into unconsciousness. The grip around his neck tightened, and everything started going dark.

He heard Gordy shout, "Shit! I can't stop him, Peter, but I'll get someone to help you!"

Peter put his hands up, trying to break the hold around his neck, but all his hands did was slip at the icy cold. In fact, it was so cold, his fingers cramped with the contact. Gordy was right about one thing. Whoever was behind his assault wanted him dead. Right then, it looked like whoever it was would soon get their wish.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Kermit was standing in the hallway talking to Paul on his cell phone. "Don't worry about it, Paul. I've got things covered here. I'll stay with him until you can get back. Just take care of what you need to do at the precinct."

"It's a hell of a time for a gang war, " Paul said with a sigh. "Well, Annie is on her way back from her sister's. She should be here in a couple of hours."

"Good. Now, relax. Go do your job, and I'll do-"

The overhead lights started flickering rapidly. Kermit glanced around. He pulled the phone away from his ear as he watched the fluorescent light panels above him flicker on and off in a pattern heading down the hall to Peter's room, almost like an airport beacon leading a plane to a runway.

He heard Paul calling his name, and then there was a muffled shout coming from Peter's room.

"I'll call you back in a minute, Paul," he said, his voice filled with distraction, and he began to run for Peter's room, slipping the phone into his pocket as he went.

When he entered, he saw Peter struggling. He flipped on the overhead lights, and stopped short. There was a dark form hovering above Peter and Peter seemed to be choking.

Kermit rushed over to the bed, not quite sure how he'd get the thing off of Peter, but he was determined to try. Locking both hands together, he swung with all his strength from the side. When he connected, the impact made him shudder. The cold from the thing was so intense, he reeled back a couple of steps before moving forward to try again.

Kermit didn't take the time to process what he was fighting. That would come later after Peter was free. In the next heartbeat, the thing turned toward him. It released one limb from Peter's throat and batted Kermit away like he was a troublesome gnat. There was a terrifying rage emanating from the entity and it seemed to quick freeze Kermit's mind and body. He flew across the room, more stunned by the encounter than by his sudden mid-air flight.

Kermit didn't have a chance to think beyond that, because once he collided with the far wall of the hospital room, pain blasted away everything else. His last thoughts were of Peter and worry. Who would protect Peter now from the thing that wanted to him dead?

**oOoOoOoOo**


	6. Chapter 6

1

**Chapter Six**

Caine had just stepped off the elevator onto Peter's floor when he staggered, nearly incapacitated by the vision of Peter being attacked. The only thing he knew was that there was a fearsome evil that meant to kill his son. After a long moment, he recovered from the shock, knowing full well if he didn't move fast enough, the evil would succeed.

By the time Caine reached Peter's room, he was stronger, but Peter wasn't. His son gasped weakly for air and his lips were taking on a bluish tint. Caine put both hands out in front of him and shouted, "LEAVE HIM NOW!"

The dark shape above Peter swirled in his direction and stopped short. Caine risked a glance at his son, and his heart nearly stopped when he sensed how close to death Peter was. He barely noticed the stench of foul odors and the room was ice cold. Kwai Chang ignored everything except the thing above Peter. He spread his hands open with his palms facing the entity and took a step closer.

"LEAVE HIM!" he ordered again.

The thing released Peter, tossing him back on the bed like an abandoned toy and loomed in Caine's direction. The hateful rage directed at Caine was nearly unbearable and it washed over him in frigid waves. The form hovered a few feet away from him, its transparent exterior darkening as the blackness inside it swirled faster and faster.

A blast of sudden wind knocked Caine from his feet and chilled him to the bone. He stood, still shivering from the cold, and then felt the form press against him, testing his defenses. Kwai Chang planted his feet firmly on the floor and steeled himself for another attack.

The unnatural wind began again. It knocked pictures from the wall and things off the bedside table, but then, without warning, the apparition just vanished. The wind disappeared just as quickly, but the biting cold lingered. Kwai Chang didn't take the time to analyze what had just happened. Instead, he overrode the inertia of his chilled muscles and scrambled to his son.

"Peter..." he whispered as his trembling fingers brushed over Peter's cheek. His breath came out in small puffs of fog. He swallowed hard when he realized he wasn't seeing the same thing coming from Peter. In fact, Peter wasn't breathing at all.

Before he could act, the room filled with hospital staff and he was pulled away from Peter. "No, do not stop me! My son is not breathing!"

A large black nurse pushed her way through the crowd and pointed at him. "You, out in the hallway now! Hospital security is already on its way, so don't try to run."

Speaking to someone behind Caine, she said, "Joan, call maintenance. This room is like a freezer and stinks to high heaven."

As she finished speaking, two male orderlies stepped to Caine's side to keep him from escaping, but escape was the very last thing he wanted to do. "Please, he is not breathing..." he repeated.

This time, the nurse listened. She moved to Peter's side, obviously concerned with what she saw. "What did you do to him?" she asked as she pulled a stethoscope from around her neck and placed it on Peter's chest.

"I did nothing," Caine said as he was being pulled from the room. "He was attac-"

"Save it for the police," she said, and went into action.

Apparently, Caine was no longer a concern as she began shouting orders, "Call a Code Blue now! Security, clear the room so my people can get in here! And get a gurney for that injured man on the floor! Move it!"

Caine looked over and saw Kermit for the first time. He was lying unconscious in a crumpled heap. The sound of multiple footsteps in the hallway caused Kwai Chang to glance in that direction. He found two security men facing him with their weapons drawn. Two more stepped out of the elevator. Caine shuddered, still trying to recover from the cold that seemed to pervade his soul, and then sighed.

There were no easy explanations for what had happened. He was yanked from the doorway and handcuffed. His only consolation was that the medical staff would be able to help Peter, and that was all that mattered.

Kwai Chang knew he wouldn't get near Peter again until people were ready to listen...and maybe not even then. Who would believe a disembodied ghost was responsible for the injuries to Peter and Kermit, and not him?

There was only one man he could think of who might believe him. "I must speak with Captain Paul Blaisdell of the 101st precinct," he said finally as he was jostled down the hallway.

"Oh, you'll get your chance to talk to the police, buddy," a short, but stocky security guard said, his nasal tone echoing in his words. "Don't worry about that."

Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Caine focused on sending Peter life-sustaining chi. Sadly, it was the only thing he could do for his son at the moment.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Paul was mad enough to spit nails as he headed out of the hospital's security office with Caine in tow. Once they were clear of the office, Paul spun and thrust a finger in Caine's direction. "This story had better be a damned one! One that explains why Peter has new injuries suffered while lying in a hospital bed, why Kermit is now in surgery to repair the compound fracture in his arm, and why I had to do some mighty fast talking to get you released into my custody. What the hell happened?"

He paused long enough to allow Caine to say, "Peter was attacked by an angry, vengeful spirit."

"Spirits again?"

"Yes, one who is becoming increasingly violent."

"Damn!" The word slipped from Paul's lips in frustration.

Caine's voice was soft as he continued, "It was the same entity that attacked Peter earlier this evening. Kermit was injured when he went to assist Peter."

Paul sighed and folded his arms in front of him. "Do we need to worry about future attacks on Peter?"

Caine's expressive hazel eyes bore into Paul's. "Yes."

"Yes? So how do we protect him?"

"That...I do not know."

"Well, what the hell do you know?" Paul asked as he threw his hands up in the air. He turned away from Caine and took a deep breath. When he turned back, he was a little more restrained. "Help me out here, Caine. I'm struggling to understand an impossible situation."

Caine met his gaze and nodded. "I shall do my best."

Paul rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for an explanation when Kwai Chang started walking toward the elevator. "I do not mean to be rude, but we must first go to Peter to protect him from further danger."

As they paused at the elevator waiting for the car to arrive, Paul chewed on his lip. "How bad is he?"

Caine's gaze dipped downward. Tears welled in Caine's eyes and his breath seemed to catch . _This is bad_, Paul's heart whispered quietly and Paul knew his inner voice had spoken with undeniable honesty

"Peter has new injuries layered upon recent ones, along with a troubled heart."

The emotional turmoil in Kwai Chang's expression spoke to Paul in a way words could never do. Paul put a hand to Caine's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pounced on you like I did. It's just so damned frustrating to have Peter here again."

"Yes, it is. And Peter's situation will not improve until he is out of harm's way."

Paul watched him closely for a moment. "There's something you're not telling me."

Caine took a deep breath, but didn't say anything. When elevator doors opened, Paul didn't step forward. "Talk to me, Caine."

The elevator doors started to close when a hand snaked out from behind Paul to stop them. Paul turned around and was surprised to see Lo Si.

"What Kwai Chang Caine is reluctant to say is that we must take Peter back to the Kensington home as quickly as we possbily can."

Paul's mouth dropped open. His gaze darted from Lo Si to Caine and back to Lo Si again. "I can tell you this right now. Those doctors aren't going to release Peter today. They might be willing tomorrow, but maybe not even then. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Peter may not be alive tomorrow. An evil one has touched him. It has looked into the very heart of Peter's soul, and he has been marked by that being. Peter is not safe wherever he goes. Neither are Phoebe or Marty Kensington, because that same evil is pervading their home. We must cleanse it before any of them can rest safely."

Paul's eyes bulged with disbelief. "Nothing of what you are saying makes any sense to me, and I'm a man who has fought evil most of his life."

"Evil takes many forms. You have not faced one of this sort before and the one in the Kensington home is of the most dangerous kind."

"Dammit to hell," Paul muttered as he brushed his hand through his thick hair, spinning away from Lo Si and Caine. He took a moment to settle his rising frustration, and whispered, "I should have my head examined for even considering something like this."

Caine touched his shoulder and when Paul turned to meet his gaze, he said, "You must consider this, because deep down, you know we are right. It is the only way to save them."

Paul sighed. "Just tell me what we are about to do is worth the risk."

When Caine hesitated, Paul cringed inside. Not even Caine was sure how the night would end. Lo Si broke the uncomfortable silence by placing a hand on both men's shoulders. "Let us hurry. We must make Peter ready to travel back to the Kensington home."

Again, Paul looked to Caine for confirmation. When Caine nodded sadly, Paul rolled his eyes. The elevator door chimed again, begging to be released, although at one in the morning, there wouldn't be many other passengers waiting for a ride.

"Let us go," Caine said softly, gesturing toward the empty elevator car, "Peter should not be left alone."

Paul entered reluctantly, not because they were going to see Peter, but because he had a feeling their situation was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Paul helped Peter get out of his car. Once again, he cursed his decision to go along with Caine's plan. With the illumination of the full moon above, Paul could see vivid bruises surrounding Peter's neck above the loose surgical scrubs he wore from the hospital.

Another glance at Peter made Paul grind his teeth together. The young man was so pale Paul was sure he'd collapse any second. Paul didn't want to hover, but he couldn't stand the possibility of Peter falling. He extended an arm to wrap around Peter's back as he said, "Here, Peter, lean on me."

Peter avoided the arm, his voice low and graveled after the strangling attempt as he said, "It's okay, I've got the door."

Paul grunted with frustration at Peter's stubbornness. "Yeah, you've got the door, but who's got you?"

Just then, Peter sagged against the car, holding on to it for support. He stayed that way for a heartbeat too long, grimly illustrating the point that Peter shouldn't be doing what they were doing. Peter straightened, glancing in Paul's direction, but didn't meet his gaze.

"Just got a little dizzy is all," he murmured.

"Humor an old man," Paul said firmly and moved before Peter could resist.

This time, Peter let Paul help him walk, but he flinched with the slightest contact to his battered body, not that Paul could blame him. Peter had been through hell in the last six hours.

A dark gray Ford F-150 truck pulled up, screeching to a halt. Ray and JD got out of it. Ray spoke first. "There was a message from Mike when I got home, saying that Peter had been hurt. We went to the hospital, but they said you were coming here. What the hell is going on?"

JD came around from the driver's side, his forehead furrowed with concern. "Damn it, Peter, you don't look like you could hold up a sunflower, let alone your own body. What're you doing out of the hospital anyway?"

Before Peter could answer, Phoebe Kensington flung the front door open, startling all of them. Her eyes were wild with panic as she said, "Mike's unconscious! You've got to help him!"

All conversation stopped as Caine and Lo Si pushed their way past her and went to Mike, kneeling beside him as he lay sprawled in the living room. Ray and JD were right behind them.

Paul spoke to Phoebe, though his gaze was on the unfolding drama before him. "What happened?"

"I woke up when I heard this-this awful wailing sound. When I came into the living room, I found Mike just lying there on the floor. I don't know what happened to him. I don't understand any of this!"

Peter put a hand on Phoebe's shoulder and she turned toward him, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Oh, Peter," she whispered and wrapped her arms around Peter, squeezing tightly before anyone could stop her. Peter didn't make much noise as he held his breath, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"Phoebe," Paul said, ushering them past the front door, "why don't we go inside where both of you can sit down? Have you called an ambulance yet?"

Phoebe's eyes were still wide with panic. "No, I just found him and saw you getting out of your car."

Paul helped Peter to the sofa and paused for a moment to look at Marty. The man was so different than he'd been five years ago, but Paul didn't have any time to think about him further. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number for the precinct dispatcher. "This is Blaisdell. I have an unconscious man at 455 Hunter's Court. Send an ambulance and a black-and-white to this address."

Paul ended the call a moment later, and then said, "I'm going to see how Mike's doing."

**oOoOoOoOo**

"How's Marty doing, Phoebe?" Peter asked, his damaged voice sounding much huskier than normal.

He looked up from the sofa at Phoebe as she stood beside him unmoving. She watched Caine and Lo Si try to revive Mike without success. Finally, she reached down to take Marty's hand in hers. She kissed it gently before returning it to his lap. In a very quiet voice, she answered Peter. "I think he's okay. Whatever happened in here didn't seem to disturb him."

"That's good," Peter said as he rubbed at the bruised area around his throat.

He stopped when he saw tears well in Phoebe's eyes. He lowered his hand, but it was too late. She glanced away, refusing to meet Peter's gaze, though she still stared at his bruises. After a moment, she looked back at the others. She wrapped her arms around her waist, then shuddered, the last of her resolve fading away as her body began to shake.

"Whoa, Phoebe. We're okay here," Peter said softly. "Just try to relax a little."

He pulled her down to sit beside him. She was quiet briefly before she turned her full attention to him, anger flashing in her eyes. "No, we're not okay! I'm not okay, Mike's not okay, and neither are you! Damn it, Peter, just look at you! If you had any sense at all, you would have stayed in that hospital instead of coming here!"

Peter brought his hand to rest on her cheek, even though she tried to bat it away, and he shushed her softly. Her fury dissolved, now replaced by fear and worry as her hand went up to cover his. "You need to be away from here, Peter. Everything that's happened to you tonight is associated with us and this house. Please, go before it's too late."

"Can't do that, Phebe. I'm here for the duration. Don't you remember my stubborn streak?"

She rolled her eyes and grunted. "It's starting to come back to me now."

She pulled back, looking at him hard, her brown eyes wide with emotion. "Paul told me you were okay when I spoke to him on the phone earlier. What happened? Why is your throat fifty shades of black-and-blue? And don't you dare hold back on me. I'll know. You know I'll know." The last line was accentuated with a finger aimed his nose.

Peter sighed and let his head drop back to rest on the high-backed sofa, inadvertently revealing more of the spreading bruises on his neck. He didn't want to tell her anything, but she was right, she'd know if he withheld any vital details. "I was attacked by something while I was in the hospital."

"Something...as in a ghost? No, don't answer that. I just can't think about that right now."

She shook her head. "If this house is being haunted, why-why would that thing...that ghost attack you at the hospital? Don't ghosts usually stay in one place?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that my father says it will keep after me and maybe you too if we don't stop it."

The word 'why' formed on her lips, but she didn't say it. She just put her hand over her mouth and trembled. She swallowed hard several times and looked like she was about to start crying again. She bent at the waist, her arms wrapped around her middle, but her demeanor shifted in an instant. Gone was her fear and apprehension. She leapt to her feet, putting out a hand and shouted. "Ray, look out!"

She jumped violently when Ray collided with the wall, as if she'd been the one to hit the wall. She started to step forward, but Peter stopped her and pulled her back to sit on the sofa. "There's nothing you can do over there. They watched as Paul went to Ray's side, along with JD. "Just sit tight."

"This is all my fault." Her gaze darted around the area. "Maybe if I'd warned you when you all were here yesterday afternoon, none of this would be happening now."

"You did in your own way. We just weren't listening. Besides, living on maybes will only make you crazy. Trust me, I know."

Phoebe's head popped up and there was fury burning in her eyes. "Well, if all this trouble is because of that damned trunk, I'll haul that thing out of here right now!"

Peter put a hand on her arm to keep her from acting on her inspiration. "Phoebe, right now there's more we don't know than what we do, so just keep that spunk of yours in reserve in case we need to use it as a secret weapon."

She started trembling again and Peter thought it was because of their unconscious friends, but when she faced him, she was deathly pale. He leaned closer to her. "What is it, Phoebe?"

"Can't you feel it? It's getting colder in here again. Just like before...oh my god, it's back..."

Peter noticed the hair on his arms was standing on end. Phoebe was right. He had been so absorbed in trying to calm her that he didn't notice the subtle changes going on in the room around them. She gasped and squeezed his hand hard enough to make him wince. He followed her gaze and found himself staring at the shapeless form hovering over the trunk.

It started toward them. The closer it got, the more it resembled the shape of a man. Paul stepped into its path and said, "Leave him alone."

Glancing back, he added, "Peter, stay where you are."

Peter was already on his feet. He stared at the form, but he didn't feel the same degree of rage he'd felt from it when he was attacked earlier.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The form drew closer, passing right through Paul as if he wasn't even there. Paul gasped and whispered, "What the..."

For some reason, Peter wasn't afraid. Phoebe followed him to her feet and stood, taking his hand in hers. The form kept coming closer. Peter started to step back when Phoebe said, "It's okay. Don't be afraid."

"Do not resist its approach, Peter," Caine advised in a low voice from across the room.

Peter's eyes widened at his father's words, and he said, "You didn't have that thing trying to squeeze the life out of you a few hours ago."

"It is not the same spirit."

Peter frowned, and looked back at the hovering form. "Gordy?"

First, the _Twilight Zone_ music began, and then the baseball glove and ball floated out of the trunk and over to the coffee table. Phoebe put a hand to her mouth. The form seemed to shimmer more brightly as she reached out and watched her hand be enveloped up to her wrist. Tears welled up in Phoebe's eyes. "I can feel him, Peter. It's Gordy. It really is Gordy."

Peter spoke to it. "Gordy, we need your help. You know already the other guy tried to kill me last night. He has to be stopped."

The form drifted away from Phoebe and closer to Peter. Peter tried not to flinch as he was completely enveloped by it. He held his breath. The chill of the air disturbed him until he felt a flowing sense of peace and caring swirl around him, dissipating his fear.

Closing his eyes, he whispered, "Talk to me, Gordy."

**oOoOoOoOo**

Lo Si was beside Caine as they tended to Mike and Ray while watching Peter interact with the apparition. "This spirit holds no malice toward Peter. I sense only sadness and affection," Lo Si said softly.

"Yes, you are correct."

Lo Si looked up at him as Caine said, "Our situation has become more precarious than ever."

Lo Si glanced back to Peter as he spoke. "If it was not the spirit of Gordon Kensington who attacked Peter here and at the hospital, then there is another spirit plaguing this household..."

Caine nodded. "Yes, I fear I was mistaken at the hospital. At the time, I thought we were only dealing with one."

"Agreed, there is danger all around us." Without warning, Lo Si gasped and grabbed Caine's arm for support. "Go, Kwai Chang, go help them now!"

Caine stopped when Lo Si shuddered, but left him when Lo Si waved him away. It was obvious Lo Si had sensed great danger. He could only pray the Ancient was wrong, but deep down, he knew he wasn't.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	7. Chapter 7

1

**Chapter Seven**

"Talk to me, Gordy," Peter said as he stood in place.

"Geez, Peter, I am talking, just try to listen."

Peter smiled. "I can hear you now, Gordy."

There was a slight pause before Gordy spoke again. For a moment, Peter thought he might have lost his connection with his old friend, then Gordy's voice filled his thoughts again. "I'm so damned sorry, bud. I tried to stop him from hurting you, but I wasn't strong enough."

"I know you tried, but you did enough, you got someone to help me."

"Yeah, but he got hurt, too. Not exactly my finest hour."

"It wasn't your fault. We've got to stop this guy before he can hurt anyone else."

Gordy's dark emotions swirled in Peter's thoughts. "I'm no help at all! I couldn't stop him from hurting Mike or Ray either! I don't know how to do anything here! Ah, hell, I'm less than useless..."

"We'll find a way."

Gordy's mood became very tense and Peter knew trouble was brewing, then he felt a new chill in the room, a malicious cold that crept across his heart. "What is it?"

"He's here," Gordy answered.

Peter glanced around, not seeing any visible signs of him in the room. "Where?"

"There," Gordy said, and Peter followed the wispy image of an hand pointing to the dining room.

"Can we talk to him?"

Gordy was silent for a moment before he said, "I wouldn't. He's pretty damned pissed. It wouldn't take much to set him off."

"Why?"

"Why is he so mad? Hell, Peter, I don't know. Didn't we do this conversation already? All I can tell you is he's one mad son of a bitch. In fact, that's all he is, just anger looking for fuel. He wants to hurt you." Gordy's frustration resonated in his every word.

"Why me?"

"Don't know."

"Can we stop him?"

"I don't know that, either." There was a moment of silence before Gordy said softly, "Let me talk to him."

Peter straightened. "I thought you just said that wouldn't be a wise thing to do."

"When was I ever known for my wisdom?" Gordy grunted. "Besides, if that thing attacks, I'd rather have it attack me than you."

"Can it hurt you?"

Gordy shrugged. "Again, I don't know. I guess we'll find out, huh?"

"No, Gordy..."

"I'm not arguing about this with you."

Peter bit his lip. "Just be careful."

"Careful is my middle name."

Peter didn't move as Gordy's form left him and moved toward the other. For a long while, nothing happened. Yet, Peter could sense something was in the offing. A moment later, a whirlwind started. It reminded Peter of a devil wind, a type of dust funnel, only this one was made of pure fury.

Peter spread his fingers out before him, trying to get a better understanding of what was happening. There was a smoldering sense of unspent electricity in the air, as if they were caught in the split-second before a bolt of lightning struck, only this bolt felt like it would take out the whole block.

Peter's concentration was shattered when the whirlwind expanded suddenly, whooshing around Peter and the others with frightening force.

"Gordy!" he called out when Gordy's ghostly form vanished from sight.

Peter waited anxiously for a response, but when none came, he cursed under his breath. Danger seemed to be all around him. Then, the other form appeared near the entrance to the dining room, separating Peter from most of the others. He backed further into the dining room, hoping to draw the apparition away from his friends.

The miscellaneous nicknacks on the tabletops and fireplace mantle began to shake, rattling in place for a moment before they flew up to hit the ceiling. Everyone reacted in the span of that insane moment. Some dodged falling objects while others ignored the danger and moved toward Peter. Then, the form started in Peter's direction. He heard Paul shouting, "Peter, watch out!"

Paul stepped forward, once more placing himself between Peter and the ghostly apparition, only this apparition meant to do bodily harm.

"No! You want me!" Peter shouted, trying to draw the ghost's attention back to him.

Before Peter could act, the ghost took hold of Paul and twisted the older man around in the air like a pig on a spit.

"Son of a bitch!" Peter said, stepping closer. "Stop it! This is between you and me!"

Paul was tossed aside. He hit the floor and slid a ways. Peter was relieved to see Paul was only roughed up. Then the ghost disappeared again. Peter's breath came in rapid gasps as two points became unavoidably clear.

One, the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles were drawing closer, so help would be arriving any time. Two, he knew precious seconds could mean the difference between life and death.

Peter licked his lips when he saw his father had started moving towards him. His words were rushed as he stretched out one hand in warning, shouting, "Peter, watch out!"

The whirlwind came out of nowhere, full of incredible power again, whipping around Peter and the others on a course none of them could discern. The house was already a mess with broken lamps, picture frames, and shattered nicknacks, but now as the wind howled by, the broken glass, wood, and plastic had the potential to become deadly weapons.

Everyone who was still standing dropped to the floor, covering their heads with their arms except Peter. He knew being on the floor or standing wouldn't mean a thing if the ghost decided to come after him.

Peter only had a moment to brace himself as the dark shape rushed at him. He had no choice but go with it. The blast catapulted him across the dining table, taking the flower arrangement and tablecloth with him. He was still airborne as he flew through the swinging door and into the kitchen. He slid to the center of the room, barely holding on to consciousness.

After a moment, Peter sensed his father's presence beside him and he worried for Caine just as he had worried for Paul moments before. There was no way Peter could help Caine if the spirit decided to attack again.

For a moment, Peter was barely aware of anything else as he managed to take in tiny gasps of air. It was all his aching ribs would allow, and it didn't seem nearly enough. Then the spirit's rage swept over him again, roiling around him like a predator preparing to strike. That damned ghost wasn't done yet.

"Wh-where is it, Pop?" he rasped.

Caine put a hand on Peter's shoulder, looking him over once more before his gaze sizzled with fury. "Stay here," he said quietly as he stood.

One glance revealed the spirit had appeared again, hovering at the entrance to the kitchen. "No, Pop," Peter whispered, reaching for Caine's pants leg, but missed.

Caine lifted one hand out toward the spirit as he stepped closer to it. "Stop this! You are not welcome here! Leave us!"

The air nearly crackled with confrontation, and then something new happened. An unholy laugh full of malice began to fill the air, chilling Peter to the core, and it wasn't because of the room's low temperature. Caine stepped closer to the form.

Peter desperately tried to get up, but fell back to the ground. "No, Pop," he whispered through clenched teeth.

_"You cannot stop me, Caine,"_ echoed across the room in a voice so creepy, goose bumps covered Peter's skin.

Caine seemed unaware of his danger or Peter's efforts as he said, "I can stop you and I will."

All of a sudden, Peter felt Gordy's spirit enveloping him again and felt a surge of relief. Maybe Gordy would know something that could help. "Gordy?"

"Sorry, Pete, I got back as soon as I could."

"What happened?"

"Damned thing sent me back to the other side."

"Are you okay?"

"Hell if I know."

Peter glanced at his father again. "We-we've gotta stop him."

"I know," Gordy said, "but we can't do it alone. It's going to take all of us and a heaping dose of luck to do it."

Peter bit his lip. His body trembled mercilessly and his vision wavered. He knew without a doubt he was skating on the precipice of shock. "I don't like living by luck, Gordy. You never know when it's going to shift the other way on you."

Gordy paused. "You might be right, but it's all we have right now. Since you're the only one who can hear me, you have to tell the others what to do."

"You have a plan?"

Gordy grunted. "No, but I figure we can make one up as we go."

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"Hey, bud, you know I always think best under pressure."

Peter nodded and started to sit up, only to groan and roll to protect his aching ribs. "Ah, geez," he whispered, rocking in a tight motion.

Gordy's voice was tense as he said, "Work through it, Caine. People are going to start dying unless we can stop it."

Peter nodded, ignoring the tears that fell when he began moving despite the pain. "Pop, wait," he whispered.

Caine glanced back in his direction, but didn't turn to face him. Peter started to get to his knees, but instead fell back as he reeled with pain and dizziness.

"Dammit, Peter, move your ass," he heard Gordy say.

Peter really wanted to do what Gordy said, but his body had other ideas. Everything began to swirl around him, and he dropped back to the floor, but never felt it.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	8. Chapter 8

1

**Chapter Eight**

Caine glanced back when he heard Peter gasp in pain. In the flickering illumination of the remaining light, he saw Peter collapse to the floor, unconscious. That moment of hesitation gave the dark spirit a chance to attack and it did so with frightening speed. Its blow hit Caine hard, knocking him against a wall adorned with brass pots and pans. The collection of cookware fell from their hooks to the floor, joining him in his fall in clattering chaos.

When Caine landed, his knee struck the sharp, narrow rim of a pan with his full weight. He gasped as sharp stabbing pain raced from his knee to his brain with blinding speed. He collapsed to one side, desperate to move his knee away from the offending pot. He lay still on his side for a long moment, riding out the worst of the pain. He thought he was ready to face the spirit again until he flexed his injured knee. The sudden flare of misery made him fall back to the floor.

His hair hung down over his face as he steadied his breathing. He looked up at the spirit through his tumbled locks, knowing he didn't have much time to act. The danger to the living was still very real and he had to protect them. He tried to rise again, but his body failed him. All he could do was to hang onto his fleeting consciousness.

A nagging whisper in his head kept his mind active and gave him direction. The force of the ghost's blast was only a fraction what had hit Peter. Something had weakened the spirit's power. He wondered what would happen if he forced another confrontation, and if the power of that blast be reduced even more.

Kwai Chang pushed his pain to a place where he could deal with later, preparing to rise when he felt a hand at his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Paul kneeling beside him. Paul's face was contorted with pain and he held his shoulder tightly, but he was there to help.

Caine felt a rush of admiration for Paul's bravery. All of this went far beyond Paul's understanding, yet there he was at his side, ready to help. Biting his lip, Kwai Chang nodded to Paul and clasped his fingers around Paul's outstretched hand.

With a combined effort, they stood. Paul was out of breath from the exertion and his face was wet with sweat. The man was obviously in great pain, but Caine needed to take care of their opponent before he took care of anyone else. He looked at the ghost and hardened his gaze. It was time to end this.

As if reading his thoughts, Paul asked, "What do we do?"

Caine wanted to answer Paul, but there was no time. Without replying, he limped forward. The whirlwind began again with its advance. Caine paused and realized the nagging whisper from moments before was back again. This time, it was saying the power of the wind itself was only half of what it was before the attack.

That knowledge encouraged him. He staggered to the center of the room, aware he should be afraid, but wasn't. He was too angry for fear to take hold. He motioned for Paul to move back, but Paul, like Peter, had a stubborn streak that was most irritating.

"Leave us!" Kwai Chang said to the invisible spirit, raising both arms as he'd done at the hospital.

Again, the room resonated with malicious laughter echoing murderous intent. Caine shouted, "You are not wanted here. Leave!"

The word _"no" _rippled in the air around him, making him shiver. It wasn't that the word was said with great force or some unworldly power, it was more the very sense of peril that came with it, and there was hatred, a hatred so intense it almost putrefied the room with its stench.

_"Never,"_ it said again and the whirlwind began to intensify.

Kwai Chang prepared himself for another onslaught when the spirit simply vanished, just as it had done at the hospital. Caine turned toward Peter, but stopped. Something in the last lingering vestiges of the spirit's presence had been vaguely familiar and it was that familiarity that gave Kwai Chang pause.

He extended his fingers into the now still air, looking for more clues of the spirit's presence, but before he found anything, the room began to spin and he collapsed in a helpless heap. His knee rebelled by blasting fiery daggers of pain to every point of his body. He was distantly aware that Paul called his name and grabbed at him before he blacked out.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Paul squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to keep Caine from hitting the floor, an effort that made his shoulder throb with new pain. Once Caine was down, Paul dropped to the floor beside him. His pain darkened the periphery of his vision. He'd dislocated his shoulder again. After it had happened years ago, it didn't take much to push it out of joint again, but it hurt like hell every time it happened. With one hand to his injured joint, Paul leaned closer to the Shaolin priest.

"Caine? Are you okay?"

Paul was aware of the others beginning to move, but he was more concerned that Caine wasn't. Feeling quickly with one hand, he couldn't find anything beyond a lump on the back of Caine's head and a rapidly swelling knee, but he wasn't a doctor. There could be much more serious injuries brewing below what the eye could see or the fingers feel.

JD rushed to his side. "Good Lord Almighty, what was that thing?"

"A ghost," Paul said tersely.

"Ghost?" JD asked with disbelief, and then he paused as he looked back toward the others. He whistled softly. "Holy crap."

Paul followed his gaze and gaped at what he saw. With the kitchen door splintered and off its hinges, Paul could see all the way into the living room. The place looked like a tornado had touched down. Twice.

"There wasn't anything holy about this attack," Paul said as he cradled his shoulder more tightly. "Check on Peter for me," he said as he tried to stand.

JD nodded and scooted over to Peter's side. Paul followed after a moment, finally finding the strength to stand. "How is he?" he asked as he dropped to one knee beside JD and Peter.

JD looked grim. He cursed under his breath before he said, "He's in a bad way. Hell, how could he not be after the way he was thrown through the kitchen door!"

JD shook his head as he went to check Peter's pupils, and then began to draw his hands down Peter's arms. He moved on to Peter's legs as he searched for broken bones and other sources of bleeding. Finally, JD looked up at Paul with a hint of encouragement in his expression. "Not much so far other than the gunshot wound he already had."

He gently felt along Peter's neck and upper torso, pausing along the collarbone and then his chest. When he got to the ribs, Peter groaned and arched slightly before dropping into a deeper level of unconsciousness. JD pulled his hands back and sighed. "He might have some busted ribs, maybe some internal injuries. There's no way to know for sure without getting him to the hospital."

Paul bit his lip. He was going to have to do something about his shoulder soon or he'd pass out. JD must have noticed, because he reached forward and lightly touched Paul's sleeve. "What about you?"

Paul shook his head. "We'll deal with that in a minute. Right now, we have bigger problems."

He glanced to the front of the house and sighed when he heard sirens coming very close, and then tires screeching as they came to a sudden stop. That was all the incentive Paul needed to get to his feet. "JD, stay with Peter."

JD nodded and Paul made his way through the scattered debris on the floor. He got as far as Phoebe when he found her struggling to stand. "Don't try to move, Phoebe. You might be hurt."

Instead of staying in place, she became more frantic. "Marty! I've got to check on Marty!"

Paul glanced to Marty's wheelchair. It was strangely uncluttered with glass as compared to the rest of the room. "I think he's okay, Phoebe. Just hold tight. I hear help on the way."

She started to protest when Lo Si appeared at her side. "I shall take attend to her. Go on."

Paul paused, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "Peter's been hurt pretty badly. Maybe you should-"

"I will see to him in a moment," Lo Si said in a subdued tone.

Though he didn't like Lo Si's decision, Paul left him for the front door. Someone outside was pounding on it, trying to get it open, but the door didn't budge. Knowing no one had locked that door made a chill crawl up Paul's spine. He caught hold of the door handle, only to cry when heated metal burned the palm of his hand.

The pounding outside continued, but there was nothing he could do about it. Paul cursed and stared at his hand, and then the door in front of him in disbelief. Apparently, that damned ghost wasn't done playing with them yet.

Paul felt a hand on his arm and he turned to see Phoebe beside him, reaching for his injured hand. Paul's gaze darted from her to where she'd been beside Marty, and he found Lo Si at Peter's side. Paul let out a long breath of relief and flinched as she took his hand. It began to throb with worsening pain.

"How..." she started to ask as she pulled his hand closer.

He bit his lip as he said, "There's something's wrong with the door."

She looked at him in bewilderment, releasing his hand to reach for the door handle. He stopped her. "Don't. It's the ghost. He's done something to it, heated it up somehow. We need to get that damned door open, so the paramedics can get inside-"

He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Caine limping toward them. He hadn't expected to see Caine conscious, let alone up and moving so quickly, but then Caine had a way of surprising him.

"There is something more than a ghost haunting this home," Caine said breathlessly as he caught up with them. "I believe there is a poltergeist at work here and it means to do great harm unless we stop it."

Phoebe's head whipped around. "What-what did you say? A poltergeist? I didn't think they actually existed."

Caine nodded. "They do," he said quickly.

Paul sighed and reached for his cell phone. "I have a feeling we'll be needing a whole lot more than just an ambulance," he said grimly.

Caine put a hand over the one Paul had holding his cell phone. "The kind of backup we need cannot be reached by phone."

Paul frowned at him.

"I do not think your telephone will work here anyway," Caine said, moving his hand away. "In fact, I imagine all the electrical devices inside this house will not function properly while the poltergeist is in control."

Paul licked his lips. The growling ache in his burned hand competed with the pain in his shoulder as he said, "It's not going to let us go without a fight, is it? Somehow, the doors are booby-trapped. Can the emergency crews even make it inside right now?"

Caine shook his head as he reached up, positioning his hands around Paul's shoulder. "It will only take a moment to take care of your shoulder as you well know, but it must be done."

Paul nodded and closed his eyes in preparation. Blinding white pain flared for a moment before there was relief. The joint was back in place. It still hurt like hell, but now the pain was tolerable. Paul took a deep breath and whispered, "Thanks."

But Caine wasn't done. He reached inside his satchel and brought out a salve, quickly applying the healing balm to Paul's burned hand. It did help to ease the discomfort with amazing speed, but Paul ignored it. "We don't have time for this kind of first aid! There's more serious injuries here! Now, answer my question. Can the emergency crews make it inside?"

The Shaolin priest looked up as he put away the salve. His expression was solemn as he said, "All access points to the house are blocked."

Caine stole a glance back to Peter and Lo Si, and Paul's heart went out to the man. He knew the effort it took not to be at Peter's side instead of dealing with the issues at hand. He cleared his throat and asked, "What about Peter? Is he going to make it?"

Caine's gaze didn't stray from his son. "He is in serious condition and needs medical attention as soon as possible, but he will live."

Paul nodded and swiped the back of his injured hand across his mouth. "And what about Mike and Ray?"

"They are merely unconscious. I do not believe their injuries are serious."

"Can we wake them up? I have a feeling we are going to need more help, especially if we can't get any from outside."

"Perhaps in a few minutes."

"How do we get out of this place...or at least get some help in here?"

"At the moment, that does not seem to be possible."

"I can think of one way," Phoebe said angrily and picked up one of the dining room chairs now lying in the entryway.

She started to hoist it at the front window, but stopped in mid-motion when the wooden blinds over the windows slammed shut. Now the only light in the room came from the emergency power failure lights in each room.

"What the hell?" Paul asked, looking to Caine. "Is that another avenue of escape now blocked?"

Caine nodded. "It is the poltergeist. We are at the mercy of its whims."

As if to accentuate the point, the power to the house came back on and light filtered in from the entryway, hallway, and other rooms where lights hadn't been destroyed. The group stared at one another warily. Paul took a deep breath as he held his throbbing hand with the other. "Do you think we're only beginning to see the extent of this thing's powers?"

Caine nodded ominously. Paul glanced around the room again. "Okay, you're the resident expert here, how do we get out of here?"

Caine's gaze locked on his. "We cannot leave. There can never be resolution until we put these spirits to rest."

"We've got injured people and all you're talking about resolution?"

"Yes, because it is the only way. There is another problem. We already know there are multiple spirits present. The first is Gordy Kensington. His presence is the typical type of ghost haunting, a friend and family member coming back to familiar territory. He is not violent. In fact, he tried to help."

He paused.

"And the other guy, the poltergeist, what about him?" Paul asked.

Caine swallowed hard. "He is the worst kind of spirit. A poltergeist can attach itself to a person or object, and things can escalate rapidly to a climax. Sometimes, it is dramatic, and sometimes it becomes deadly."

"Do you think this was the climax?"

Caine's head dipped down. "No, I do not think so. There is too much surging energy around us. It has to be eliminated or it will be used by the poltergeist to destroy us all."

"How do we do that?"

Caine frowned. "I am not sure yet."

Paul's irritation grew. "Damn it, Caine, that thing just blasted Peter into the next room and nearly took you out, too. People are in danger. We need to do something."

Caine nodded in agreement. "You are correct, but it does not change the fact I still do not know how to proceed at this time."

He turned back toward Peter, limping away in silence. Paul watched him leave, then felt Phoebe move beside him as she went to look at his burned hand again. Paul hoped Caine was wrong. Otherwise, morning might be something none of them would ever see again.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	9. Chapter 9

1

**Chapter Nine**

Peter opened his eyes to see he was at the Seville Mall, back in his patrolman's uniform. Glancing up at the impending rain storm, Peter's gaze darted around the chaotic area. The place was filled with police cars and emergency personnel. Peter cringed. He knew this place. He had been there before. Too many times, in fact.

"Move it, Caine, we aren't here to stand around and look handsome. We've got to get these people out," Sergeant West called out to him.

A trickle of sweat started running down Peter's spine as he followed West and Marty Kensington. West was an older man in his fifties who kept Peter on a pretty short leash. The air filled with the ear-shattering report of rapid gunfire and Peter stopped. The next sound was the panicked screams that followed. Peter held his breath as he waited, praying he was wrong about what would happen next, but he knew he wasn't.

When the screams came, West pointed toward the rear of the mall. "You two snake around and watch for sprinters. I have a feeling those gunshots will scare the foxes out of the grass, along with the rabbits, and I know you two can run a hell of a lot faster than I can."

"Got it," Peter said.

"No hotdogging, Caine. If I find out you-"

Peter grinned widely. "Gotcha, Sarge!"

"Don't worry, I'll watch out for him," Marty shouted as he started to run. Peter took off after him.

The sergeant shook his head and waved him away. "Just remember what I said."

Peter closed his eyes in anguish as he heard Marty say, "Will do. Come on, Peter. It's show time!"

It was happening again. Peter was caught in the same damned nightmare, repeating the events of that awful day once more. He knew from experience that nothing ever stopped them from unfolding again. Even though he knew it was a dream, it had been real once and that reality made it painfully vivid with each replay.

"Here we go again," he whispered.

In the next few moments, Mike Denton would stop Dwight Tucker as he tried to flee the mall with the other civilians. Dwight would swing around, striking Mike hard on the side of his head and the rest was history.

"Come on, somebody call for backup," Peter whispered as Marty stopped, seeing Mike fall from Tucker's blow. They were about twenty feet away.

"Gordy, Peter, Mike's down!" Marty shouted.

Peter started running toward Marty with Gordy right ahead of him. "Back up, guys, call for backup..." he whispered, knowing no one would hear him.

Tucker had a good lead, but the three patrolmen were fast runners. They followed Tucker through a maze of dumpsters and delivery trucks once they hit the rear of the complex. Weaving in between pallets of goods and trucks, Tucker disappeared from view.

Peter wanted to scream, "Get the hell out of here!" but all that came out was, "Watch out, he could be hiding anywhere!"

With only seconds remaining before the blast occurred, he knew hell was about to rip his world apart again. Once had been enough to last a lifetime; after hundreds of repeats, it wore his defenses down to practically nothing.

Peter emerged from behind the row of semi-trucks to see Gordy ahead Marty by about ten feet. Gordy was livid. "I lost him! Goddammit, I lost him! I don't frigging believe it!"

"We'll find him, don't worry about it. I'll call it in," Marty said and went to grab his hand mike on his uniform.

Peter whirled around with the sound of a forklift backing up. The beeping warning had caught him off guard. Now, the presence of truck drivers and receiving personnel from the different stores added another twist to the mix. There were pallets of paint and other canisters labeled with red combustible warnings on them situated in the loading area.

"Get the hell out of here!" Peter shouted to the people working. He didn't have to say it twice. Most of them took off running.

Peter turned around just in time to see Tucker step from between two dumpsters with a gun in each hand. Instead of aiming at one of them, he started firing at the delivery trucks behind them. Gordy ducked behind a laden pallet and said, "What the hell? This asshole's aim is worse than Aunt Mary's!"

Marty worked his way closer to Gordy with Peter a few yards behind him. "Let him use up his ammo, Gordy," Marty said. "Maybe we can split up and surround him."

Peter shook his head. "He's got us backed into a corner," he said, "But maybe I can sneak behind this truck and-"

Gordy interrupted. "I'm closer. I can do it. You two sit tight-"

Before they could argue the point, Peter was spun around by a bullet hitting his right leg, making him crash against a pallet of paint thinner.

"Peter!" Marty called out, moving to Peter's side.

"I'm fine, just bust that bastard," Peter said after Marty pulled him further behind the protection of some crates.

Marty shook his head and turned back toward Gordy. "Peter's down, Gordy! That son of a bitch shot him!"

Peter clutched his leg for a moment, trying to settle his breathing, but failed. Finally, he said, "I'm okay, Gordy. Just stick to the plan..."

Gordy grunted and peeked out far enough to see Peter and Marty. He was pinned down about fifteen feet from Marty and Peter by gunfire. "The plan just changed, bud. Marty's taking you out of here right now."

"No!" Peter shouted as Marty helped him to stand. Marty kept one arm around him, but Peter still had trouble staying upright. "It's not that bad!"

"Yeah, right," Marty said, shaking his head. "I'll be right back, Gordy."

"Got it," Gordy called back in between shots.

Peter closed his eyes shut with frustration. When he opened them, he saw some workers waving at him. Geez, he'd told everyone to clear out. He straightened his stance to yell at them again, but instead they shouted to him, "Get away from there! That area is filled with combustibles! One stray shot and the whole thing will go up!"

"Ah, shit," Peter cursed at the canisters marked with red diamonds and white lettering.

He flashed back to his academy days when they learned the meaning of each of the color labeling on potential hazards such as corrosives, oxidizers, and so on. He looked up at Marty. Now his bad aim made sense. "Tucker's trying to blow us up!" he shouted.

Marty spun around to look at Gordy. Gordy was in a bad position if there was an explosion. Peter could see worry tighten the lines on Marty's face. Marty started to take a step toward Gordy, but was driven back by another shot from Tucker.

"Gordy, you need to get out of there," Marty said in a loud whisper. "This place could blow sky high!"

"Just get moving, Marty! Peter can't get out of here on his own, so you have to go with him. I'll be right behind-"

A couple more bullets silenced Gordy for a moment. "Go on. I'll meet you out front," he said with a determined tone Peter knew well.

Marty's gaze darted from Gordy to Peter and then back to Gordy again. Peter put a hand to Marty's shoulder. "We can take this guy down, Marty. Gordy doesn't have to do it on his own."

Marty didn't turn, but shook his head. "Gordy can take care of himself until reinforcements arrive. Come on, you don't look so good."

Marty used his position of support to usher Peter away when Peter stopped, making a defiant stand. "I'm not leaving him," he said through gritted teeth.

Marty exploded. "And you think I want to? Come on, you're hurt. Gordy knows that and so do I, so be gracious enough to let us save your sorry ass!"

Peter stood his ground and saw Gordy curse, apparently making a decision. Shaking his head, the twin made a running dive across to their position. Once he was across, he scrambled to his feet and took hold of Peter's belt from the back.

"Let's haul ass," Gordy said breathlessly.

All three started moving out at a dead run. Peter stumbled and nearly took all of them down. Gordy recovered faster than Marty, and then glanced back while Peter took a moment to lean against the side of one of the semis to catch his breath. Marty shook his head. "I don't hear any more shots. Maybe he gave up and ran-"

Another volley of bullets told them that wasn't the case. Tucker had moved closer to them, probably realizing he was boxed in at his previous position.

"Give it up, Tucker! Look around you! One wrong shot and we all go up in smoke!" Gordy shouted, taking a couple of steps back toward Tucker's new location.

"Go to hell!" Tucker shouted back.

Marty moved closer to Gordy. Then Peter saw two of the more seasoned cops from their precinct sneak up behind Tucker just as Gordy had planned to do. They grabbed Tucker, causing Tucker to fire twice more before they could wrestle his guns away. Peter's nerves jangled with the last shot, as if it triggered a warning of new danger, and then he saw why.

The last stray shot had hit the ground, causing sparks to light spilt paint thinner. There was no time to react. A breath later, everything disappeared in a wall of flames. Flying debris hit the next pallet over and that one went up, too. Time slowed to a crawl as Peter could see a deadly chain reaction happening. In a split second, he made a decision based more on instinct than logic.

He grabbed Marty and Gordy, and pushed them away from the direction of the explosions, throwing his weight behind his effort. Peter hoped they had enough momentum to make it into the concrete recess of a nearby loading dock before everything really blew, but he also knew time was a precious commodity.

He felt the concussion that sent them flying an instant before he heard it. Marty and Peter landed about fifteen feet from the explosion, and the ensuing momentum caused them to roll, tumbling over and over as if tossed from a fast moving vehicle. Peter grunted hard when he collided with a huge tire from a eighteen wheeler.

Next came the falling debris from the blast and surrounding area. It rained down on Peter's unprotected body and he curled up closer to the tire, hoping the shelter of the semi might afford him some limited safety. He covered his head with his arms as more debris crashed down around the area. The impact shook the ground and it sounded like whole buildings were dropping right next to them. There was nothing Peter could do except ride it out.

"Goddamnit!" Peter repeated until the noise stopped.

By the time deadly quiet took the place of the noise, Peter hurt in so many places, he didn't know what hurt more. Taking a shallow breath, he opened his eyes to see where he was. They had wound up in the loading dock of a very large home improvement store and the area was in shambles with all kinds of materials scattered from the blast.

Peter started to call for Marty, but coughed instead, and his side exploded in pain. "Ah, geez," he gasped, holding one hand to his side, but he couldn't see Marty or Gordy, and that fact made Peter's pain fade away.

"Marty? Gordy?" he called, but his voice was weak.

There was no reply.

"Come on, Caine, get your butt moving," he told himself.

"Marty? Gordy?" he repeated as he went to get to his knees, and then stopped short.

He looked down at his chest in disbelief. There was a short narrow piece of metal shrapnel protruding from his lower rib cage. "Oh, God," he whispered, falling back to the ground.

His uniform shirt was already soaked in blood. The pain wasn't too bad, but he knew that wouldn't last long. He wiped away the sudden appearance of sweat from his eyes, and then he heard a weak voice cry out, one so weak Peter barely recognized it as one of the Kensingtons. "Help...someone, help me."

Peter raised his head and started looking around. The blast had knocked them apart, but the voice sounded pretty close. His breath caught as he saw some blond hair peeking out from the rubble.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" Peter said, but he couldn't get to his feet, especially with the bullet hole in his leg, so he crawled as best as he could on one side. He wasn't sure if it was Marty or Gordy calling to him, but he knew it was one of the twins.

"Peter? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Hold on."

He was almost to him when he recognized Marty's badge number. "I'm here, Marty."

Peter froze when he saw part of a huge metal gate lying across Marty's legs. All it took was one look and Peter couldn't move. His thoughts stopped at the same time. What he was seeing couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. The stream of visual input collided with sick disbelief, and Peter was sure he was going to throw up.

"Oh, God, no," he whispered as he finally reached Marty and put a hand to his friend's shoulder.

"Peter?" Marty asked groggily, "I was wondering where you were."

Tears filled Peter's eyes as he struggled to find a response that wouldn't reveal his horror. After an eternity, he said, "Sorry I was late."

"It's okay. I would have come to you except I've got this thing sitting on top of me." Marty gestured toward his legs.

The thought of it caused Peter's stomach to lurch again. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. "Yeah, I kind of noticed. Let's get you some help," he said between gulps of air.

He reached for his hand mike and was surprised to see it was still in place. He barely had the strength to depress the button on the mike. "Officers down. Need assistance. In the loading dock of Worley's Home Improvement."

Peter dropped the mike as he was hit with another wave of nausea and dizziness, and he rested his head on the cold asphalt.

"Whoa, Peter, slow down," Marty said, patting Peter on the arm as if he was drunk. "I think we are both done for the day. Time to knock back a few brewskis."

Peter gave him half a smile and nodded, looking around for Gordy, but still didn't see him. He fought to slow his fast and shallow breathing, blinking several times to chase away the darkness around the edges of his vision.

"Peter, are you okay?"

Peter nodded.

"No, you aren't," Marty paused as his eyes focused on Peter's chest. "Ah, man, look at you!"

Peter glanced down at the metal shrapnel Marty was staring at and shrugged. "Don't worry about me. Just worry about yourself."

"I guess I'm not in the best of shape, either." Marty's voice dropped off at the end, scaring Peter.

"Marty! Stay with me. Come on, stay with me."

"Trying..."

"Hang in there."

"Sure," Marty said and then looked up at something Peter couldn't see. The brightness of the sun coming out from behind a cloud blinded Peter, but whatever Marty saw made him sigh with relief. "Gordy, Peter needs a hospital fast."

Peter glanced to where Marty was looking and still saw nothing, but a creeping darkness that seemed to steal away the day's brightness. A single ray of sunlight glared brightly before giving up to the darkness and Peter blinked from its intensity. When he opened his eyes again, Gordy was standing there just as Marty had said, his uniform in tatters and blood covered most of his exposed skin.

"Nah, Gordy, we can't go anywhere." Marty pointed a thumb in Peter's direction. "We've got to get Peter to the hospital. Why am I always repeating myself with you?"

Where Marty had been joking, everything about Gordy's expression revealed great sadness. It reached through Peter's disorientation and squeezed hard. The pain in Gordy's eyes said it all, but Gordy went ahead and spoke the words, "Peter, tell him he needs to go with me."

Gordy's request chilled Peter, and he shook his head gently, looking away as he whispered, "No, Gordy, not both of you."

Gordy nodded. "Marty, it's time to go."

Marty murmured words Peter couldn't make out and Peter turned toward Marty. When Peter glanced back at Gordy, his voice broke. "I don't think he can hear us anymore."

"He never did listen to me when it was important," Gordy muttered.

Gordy knelt beside Peter. "You're hurt pretty badly yourself, but you don't have to leave yet."

Peter stretched out a hand, but didn't try to touch him. He was sure his hand would pass through empty air, and he couldn't handle that right then. Gordy's outline was shimmering with an unworldly glow that was made more distinct by the growing darkness behind him. "Don't go," he whispered, tears clouding his vision.

"I have to, Pete."

Peter swallowed hard. Everything else around them faded as Peter stared into Gordy's blue-green eyes. "Are you afraid?"

"To die? Nah, it wasn't that bad. That's what I'm trying to tell Marty."

"No..." Peter said as he fought against Gordy's determination. "If Marty has a chance to live, let him!"

Gordy shook his head. "No, Peter, not that way. Besides, we came into this world together, it just seems right that we'd be leaving it together too."

Peter struggled to sit up and couldn't. Gordy put a hand to Peter's chest, looking closely at his wound. "You keep moving around like that, Peter, and you really will be joining us."

Gordy glanced back at the darkness and frowned. There was a hoarse scream that sounded a lot like Tucker and then the darkness pulled back. Peter wondered about the connection between the two events, but then Marty started murmuring in a voice thick with shock. "Can't leave Phoebe. Wouldn't be fair, Gordo. Love Phoebe, can't leave her alone..."

"Oh God," Peter whispered, knowing the inevitable was about to happen.

Gordy turned away as if distracted by the retreating darkness. When he looked back, frustration was clear in his expression. "Geez, Marty, I can't wait here very much longer. Come on!"

"Why?" Peter asked, his weakness growing. "Why does he have to go now?"

Gordy looked behind him one last time and sighed before turning back to Marty. He bent down to kiss his brother on the forehead, and then stood. "I guess he's not coming after all. Take care of him, Peter, and take care of yourself, too. Love ya, man."

And then he was gone.

With a blast as shocking as the one he'd just survived, the world around Peter came blaring back to life at full volume. Sirens, people shouting, screams...it all bombarded Peter's fading consciousness.

Someone knelt beside him and said, "Hang on, Peter. We're here now. We'll take care of you." Peter recognized Mike's voice, sounding scared and worried as he added, "Just sit tight and you'll be out of here in no time."

Peter nodded, but his gaze stayed on Marty. "Take care of Marty, Mike. He's hurt bad."

More people joined them and Peter's breathing caught in his chest when he heard JD say, "Ah, sweet Jesus, just look at Marty's legs!"

There was the sound of someone throwing up, and then Ray's shaky voice said, "Gordy's dead."

More voices joined in, anxious and caring, but Peter couldn't hear what they were saying. He looked up and thought he saw Gordy standing in the distance. He didn't react. He couldn't. He was too numb inside to think.

He tried to look at Marty, but his eyes were too full of tears to see. No wonder Gordy had wanted Marty to go with him. Geez, Marty's legs were so badly mangled, he knew there was no way he'd ever walk again. The weight of guilt settled upon Peter and he shook his head. What was Gordy thinking of when he asked Peter to look after Marty? Hell, Peter couldn't even take care of himself.

He sighed. He was trapped once again in that pit of hell he called guilt, a hell whose dimensions seemed to be defined by the number of people who had died because of him. There was nothing he could do to bring any of them back, but maybe he could spare future loss of life by not fighting to stay alive any longer.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	10. Chapter 10

1

**Chapter Ten**

"No, Gordy, not both of you," Peter murmured in his semiconscious state, his expression tense and tortured. "Don't go..."

Paul bit his lip as he knelt beside Peter. He brushed his fingers along Peter's brow, hoping to ease some of the tension there, but Peter was oblivious. Paul had a good idea of what Peter was dreaming about. He'd seen it happen too often over the years, the recreation of what happened at the Seville Mall so long ago.

He leaned forward and put a hand to Peter's shoulder. "It's okay, son."

Peter still struggled in his sleep, talking to Gordy in the moments after the explosion. Peter's hand snaked out as if trying to catch Gordy, but the motion flared his injuries and he curled up to one side, groaning through clenched teeth.

Paul glanced up at Caine. The Shaolin priest was checking a nasty gash on JD's upper arm. As he wrapped a makeshift bandage around it, Phoebe stood beside them. JD hissed when Caine tied the bandage and Phoebe put a hand to his back in comfort.

"Caine," Paul said as he gestured with his head for the Shaolin priest to follow him.

Paul came to a stop between the living room and dining room. "Peter's getting more agitated by the second. Isn't there something we can do to help him?"

Caine's eyebrows knitted together in thought, his gaze darting toward his son. "Peter is reliving the worst moments in his life."

"Yes, I know. He's dreaming about-"

Peter cried out just then. "No, Max, don't!"

Peter's eyes squeezed shut and a tear slid down his cheek.

"He's had these dreams before, but they've never been this vivid or prolonged. Why can't we get him to come around," Paul asked, pulling his eyes away from Peter and back to Caine.

"Something is blocking me from connecting with him. This barrier keeps Peter from us and us from Peter. Peter's suffering cannot be allowed to continue. I know what we must do, but I do not yet know how to do it."

"What is that?" Paul asked.

"We must stop the tormentor."

Paul frowned. "Stop the poltergeist? Is he the reason why you can't reach Peter?"

"Yes."

"He's behind the intensity of Peter's dreams right now?"

Caine nodded.

"And how do you propose to stop him when you couldn't stop him from attacking Peter in the first place?"

"I must make contact with the poltergeist."

Paul frowned in confusion. "Haven't you already been in contact with him?"

"To a certain extent." Caine shrugged. "When he attacks next, I must have his undivided attention."

"What if he attacks you again? You got off easy last time compared to Peter. What good will it do to have both of you down?"

Caine's gaze intensified. "I must try. If the poltergeist makes another physical attack on Peter, he may not survive. As it is, the emotional strain on Peter is weakening his physical stamina. In his current condition, that strain could threaten his life."

Paul rubbed a hand across his face. Kwai Chang sighed. "The poltergeist enjoys our helplessness. He will continue until he tires of the game."

"You mean he's just toying with us until he gets bored? There's got to be a way to put that damned ghost out of action. While you concentrate on the poltergeist, I'm going to grab JD and Phoebe, and see if we can find a way out of this place."

"Phoebe may be of service."

"How's that?"

"She is sensitive to the spirit world, though she tries not to see her gift."

"Phoebe's got a connection with these ghosts? Are you talking about her being able to know the first ghost was Gordy and when she screamed right before Ray went flying?"

Caine nodded. "Both Peter and Phoebe are more attuned to our spiritual visitors than any of us. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage."

Caine returned to Peter's side without another word. Paul stood in place for a long moment before going back to Phoebe and JD. He tried to digest Caine's advice, but it gave him heartburn, so instead he got moving. The three of them had work to do.

**oOoOoOoOo**

_A terrible sense of urgency drove Peter to keep moving. They had to stop Max and fast. Peter held his bleeding arm tightly as he passed through the swinging doors of the water treatment plant, looking for some sign of Max and the school teacher, Mrs. Crane. _

_His companion through the corridors was Blythe, one of Mrs. Crane's teenaged students and fellow hostage. She kept him on his feet as they hurried along. He sagged against a wall, taking Blythe with him. As much as he tried to ignore it, he was still reeling from the shock of Max slamming a door against his wound and blood loss._

_"Peter, you have to stop and rest. Aren't you afraid of bleeding to death?" Blythe asked as she helped him back to a standing position._

_Peter glanced down at the blood seeping through the fingers of his hand. "This? This isn't bad. Come on, we have to keep up with Max and your teacher."_

_She hedged for a moment before sighing deeply. "I still think this is a bad idea, but you're the adult here..."_

_"Now you're talking," he whispered as he brushed the back of his hand across his forehead._

_Blythe was right about one thing. Running around in his condition was stupid, but he had a sick feeling Max was up to something they'd all regret. And it was that suspicion that kept him moving. He stumbled, nearly going to his knees, but Blythe caught him. _

_"For a skinny guy, you're awfully heavy," she said with a grunt._

_Peter didn't answer her. All he could see was the crazy gleam in Max's eyes. The man's endless stream of impersonations had slowed to a trickle the longer the hostage situation continued. To Peter, it was an ominous sign of serious trouble to come. Peter had promised to take Max to his secret place. He'd done the best he could given their situation. He only hoped his father had understood his hidden message and was bringing plenty of backup with him._

_"Max, stop!" Peter called from the upper level after finding Max fleeing with Colleen Crane down below._

"It is not in our stars that we are underlings, but in ourselves," _Max recited from Julius Caesar. He put down his Uzi as he finished speaking and stepped onto the platform, taking hold of the lift controls. _

_Peter rushed down the stairs, cursing as he came around the corner. Max's platform was already several feet in the air. With a sick feeling, he knew what Max was up to. He was going to kill himself. Perhaps Max didn't plan for things to go down this way, but he was going to take everyone in the building with him at the same time. Sure enough, Max lifted his hand holding the nitro up for everyone to see. _

_"This is real," Max shouted to the upper level of the complex now filled with members of Stiles' SWAT team._

_"Max, don't do it!" Peter shouted back, hating the despair in his voice._

_"We never did find that secret place of yours, Peter."_

_Peter shook his head, trying to reach Max with his expression where words had failed. Stiles and his men came to a stop, but Peter was barely aware of them. He stared at Max, praying for some bit of insight that could save them all, but nothing came fast enough. _

_Max said, "I guess this is goodbye, pilgrims!"_

_Stiles took a rifle from one of his men and aimed it at Max. Peter tried to stop the inevitable by shouting, "Don't shoot!"_

_In the next instant, Stiles fired his weapon and everything slowed down as seconds passed like hours. The bullet struck Max, and the nitro slipped from his fingers. Peter threw himself over Colleen and Blythe, but it was a pointless gesture. Nothing would save them now. Max began to tumble down from the elevated platform. The spectators reacted, but there wasn't enough time to get away from certain disaster._

_Then a miracle happened. Somehow, Caine had slipped in while Peter wasn't looking. He caught the nitro before it hit the ground. The moments following the catch were filled with awed silence and disbelief. Caine held the dangerous liquid up to eye level and examined it more closely. _

_Peter pulled away from the two women and nearly stumbled as he clutched his arm. He sighed with relief and nodded in admiration. "Nice catch," he said softly._

_Caine shrugged in his classic way. _

_"I knew you would find me," he said with a nod._

The scene shifted and Peter was surrounded by darkness. A strange voice whispered inside Peter's head. _"Max is dead because of you."_

Peter spun around. That had never happened in the original incident. "What?" he asked in confusion.

_"He's dead because of you and your arrogance. You might as well have pulled that trigger yourself."_

Peter continued to search for the source of the taunting voice without success.

_"Max will never forgive you for tricking him, for taking him to a place where he'd die."_

"No, that's not true. Well, Max did die, but-"

_"You killed him, just as you killed Gordy and maimed Marty. It's your fault. You have said it yourself several times this evening."_

Peter froze in place. Was this Marty taunting him in such a cruel way? Or perhaps it was Max himself? Whoever it was, that ghost had followed him into his memories and his nightmares. How could he fight someone he couldn't even see, someone who knew his deepest, darkest regrets, and played with them like they were a child's toy.

A cold chill began to climb up Peter's spine as he realized he couldn't mount a defense when he really didn't believe the defense himself. The voice had been right in its accusations. How could a man argue with such exacting honesty? He shuddered as a part of his soul died with that acknowledgment. There was no denying the point, he was guilty of those damning accusations. He was guilty of that and so much more.

Peter groaned when the darkness was transformed.

_He recognized the grocery store instantly. He'd been there with Skalany. They were trying to get the drop on Stella and the Green Hornet, a dangerous pair of thieves hitting the businesses in the area with deadly results, always escaping moments ahead of the police._

_It was another one of Peter's low points playing out like a movie without his permission, playing to Peter and Peter alone. No, there was one other presence. The one with the taunting voice. _

_Shots fired in his direction by Stella and the Green Hornet, narrowly avoiding him._

_"Stay down!" he shouted at an elderly couple trapped between him and one of the perps. _

_He thought the couple was out of the way when he came up again, aiming for Stella or the Green Hornet. He fired, but instead of one of the thieves, he hit the woman he'd warned to stay down. She'd gotten to her feet in those fleeting moments while he was down. The bullet spun her around, and she hit the ground. Her husband screamed with fear and shock._

_The pair of thieves escaped moments later while Peter and Mary Margaret saw to the injured woman. Her husband shouted at Peter, "You're one of the police? The police shot my wife? What were you thinking?"_

_Peter stood, his mouth gaping open. He ran a hand through his hair. The man repeated himself, but more emphatically this time, "What were you thinking!"_

_Peter opened his mouth and closed it again before he was finally able to say, "What was I thinking?"_

The dark taunting voice returned. _"Yes, what were you thinking, Peter? Another life was forever changed by your bungling and you were solely to blame. When will you stop forcing others to suffer with your presence?"_

Peter reacted, shouting back before he had time to think of what he was saying. "No, she jumped up out of nowhere! I was cleared by IAD for that shooting!"

_"So that makes it okay? Were you also able to clear the woman's pain and resulting trauma? No, she will be forever scarred by this incident."_

Tears filled Peter's eyes. "It's not my fault. Things happen in the heat of the moment. I warned them. I told them-"

_"Excuses. Just empty excuses."_

Peter gasped as he tried to convince the accusing voice of his innocence once more. There was no valid defense to be found for his crimes. After all, he was responsible for all of it.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault," he said, hugging his arms around his chest.

The grocery store scene faded from sight and the darkness enveloped him again. It slowly lightened to reveal Peter and the Ancient watching as his father fought with Tan. All eyes were on the flashing swords as the two men moved in a deadly dance. Peter looked around. The mock rendition of the Shaolin temple where he'd grown up was very realistic. A moment later, Tan was dead, stabbed by his own blade.

The voice began speaking again. _"And what feeble excuses do you have for playing a part in the death of Tan? If not for you, Tan would still be alive."_

"Tan? You've got to be kidding! Who's going to miss that bastard? I'm not sorry he's dead and I never will be!"

_"You have no remorse that your father killed his old friend, the man you once knew at the temple as Master Tao? Perhaps, it was something you wanted to do yourself? Admit it."_

"He destroyed my life and my father's life. Priests and helpless children died when they attacked the temple. If anyone deserved to die, it was him!"

_"So you're admitting you wanted him dead. What else are you willing to admit to?"_

_The temple disappeared and Peter was standing on a street curb beside his Stealth, talking to central dispatch. "Yeah, thirty three. Officer needs assistance in the, uh, alleyway at the south end of Magnolia."_

_Everett Cooper tapped on his arm. "Peter."_

_Peter waved him off, holding up one finger. "Just a minute."_

_The dispatcher was talking and Peter could hear Everett fidgeting behind him. "Yeah, Caine."_

_The dispatcher asked him to hold for a moment, but then he heard Kira call his name from the alley and nothing else mattered. He dropped the car phone into the driver's seat and rushed into the alley, already pulling his gun. There was something in Kira's voice that scared him. _

_His gaze darted around the alley as he spun around, looking for Kira. He knelt beside her when he found her lying on the ground, running his hand through her hair as if that would dispel all the signs of death his eyes took in. He touched her skin and still refused to believe. _

_A shadow loomed behind him, and he stood, spinning around as he fired in that direction. The shadow vanished into the darkness of the alley, leaving him alone with Kira's body. He dropped his gun and knelt, putting both hands to Kira's rapidly chilling face. He lifted her head as he whispered, "No..."_

_She didn't move, but then she couldn't, she was dead. _

_"No," he repeated more emphatically. _

_No amount of denial could change the fact she was gone. He bent down caressing her face once more as he kissed her forehead and began to cry. He couldn't stop himself from touching her, as if that would somehow bring her back from death. _

_His tears fell harder as he remembered that mere moments before he had kissed her and flirted with her. He'd been looking forward to more intimate moments after they'd gotten rid of Cooper, but none of that mattered anymore. Kira was dead. God, she was dead._

_"No!" he howled, his anguish and grief overwhelming him. He hugged Kira's lifeless body to his chest. Her head lolled back, and her blonde tresses fell to hang down in golden_ _ripples._

The voice seemed especially cruel when he said, _"This is another death that you couldn't prevent. Aren't you supposed to do your job and protect others? All you seem to do is watch them die."_

Peter released his hold on Kira, gently lowering her to the ground. He backed away from her as he stood, pulling at his hair with both hands. He turned and stumbled away from the accusing voice, but it followed him. _"Do you deny it?"_

"She-Kira, she was murdered. There was nothing I could-"

_"That line is wearing thin. Accept your responsibility and stop running away from it."_

Peter shook his head. He couldn't be responsible for so much grief. He just couldn't.

"No," he whispered over and over, sinking to his knees, sobbing.

_"Yes," _came the voice.

Peter looked up through tear-filled eyes, but still couldn't see his accuser. Peter knew he had to go somewhere...to a place where he could think without stinging accusations, a place where he could gather his strength and allow his thoughts to work together to fight that taunting voice.

He sighed when a realization hit him. The voice wasn't taunting him any longer. It was speaking the truth, he just hadn't been ready to hear it until then.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	11. Chapter 11

1

**Chapter Eleven**

"You must block out all other concerns and focus only breaking through the poltergeist's interference. Peter's fate depends upon your success," the Ancient said softly.

Caine nodded, and then dared a quick look at Peter. The sight made his breath catch. Peter's reddened, sweaty face revealed the extent of the dreams' strain on his body. Occasionally, bits and pieces of his one-sided conversation came through and what little Caine heard disturbed him. There was such heartache radiating from his son.

Lo Si continued, "Do not attempt to overcome the poltergeist in his realm, Kwai Chang, instead focus your efforts on Peter. If you can reach him, you can break him free from these nightmares and bring him back to us."

"And if I cannot?" Caine asked.

"Then the poltergeist's hold over him is greater than we first thought. But do not dwell on possible failure. Fix your thoughts solely on victory."

Lo Si's advice was sound, but deep down Caine knew it wouldn't be easy to follow. He nodded finally and closed his eyes. The fear and concern he felt coming from the others was distracting. In fact, their emotions were so strong, he found it difficult to center himself.

He started to push away their emotions, thinking he couldn't allow their worries for Peter to weaken his resolve, then he changed course, and he embraced them instead. To share in their concern for his son was just what his troubled heart needed to strengthen itself.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Is this going to work?" Paul asked Lo Si as they watched Caine go deeper into a meditative state.

"It must," Lo Si answered and then paused, "Forgive me, but I must prepare myself for my part in the next step of our plan."

Paul nodded and backed away, leaving the old man to do what he had to. He noticed Mike and Ray were starting to come around, but slowly as Phoebe and JD knelt beside them.

Paul motioned for them to join him away from Mike and Ray. When they were together, he said, "While our two Shaolin priests are doing their metaphysical thing, let's see what we can do with some basic real world sleuthing."

JD grunted. "Like what? We've already tried every window and door in this place. What else can we do? Grab some spoons and start tunneling our way out? This isn't exactly Hogan's Heroes, you know."

"Then we try every window and door in this place again. We aren't going to give up without examining every possibility, do you understand me?"

JD's expression softened and he nodded. "I'm sorry, Captain. I never thought of myself as a quitter before. I'm not about to start now."

Paul tempered his tone, but kept his message clear. "We are going to beat this thing, one way or another."

JD and Phoebe nodded in agreement. "Phoebe, stay with Mike and Ray. They look like they're close to coming around. At least I hope they are. We can use the extra help. Okay, JD, let's get at it."

The three split up, each going in a different direction. Paul knew the odds of finding something they'd missed before were near impossible, but at least it kept everyone busy until the real game began.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Caine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He tried to focus on Peter, but he became mired in the void between his consciousness and Peter's. He thought back to another time he was trying to find Peter.

_"Does he have secret place that he goes to for healing?" Old Ping Hai asked._

_"That, I do not know," Caine answered._

_"Ah, find that place and you will find your son."_

Caine smiled with the memory. Now he knew where to look for Peter. The shadowy landscape began to change into something more familiar. The lake's water lapped at his feet as he glanced up. There was a temple sitting up on the cliffs, shining in the bright moonlight. The sight made Caine sigh. Their old home was still whole as it had been before its tragic destruction.

Peter's secret place back then had been a peaceful cove at the lake. Now the setting made perfect sense, Peter had returned to a place where he'd once felt safe and whole.

"Peter?" he called.

Caine's voice echoed back without a response. The night sky and scenery appeared idyllic, yet there was an ominous feel to the air. Danger was present and Caine knew that danger came from the poltergeist.

Suddenly, the clear skies overhead turned dark with huge thunder clouds as wind began to whisk around him. The sudden stab of a lightning bolt striking the nearby ground made him dive to one side. When he scrambled to his feet, he heard explosions coming from the cliff and his heart sank. The temple was under attack again.

He took a step forward, automatically moving to help his old friends before he could stop himself. What he heard and saw taking place in the distance was a very realistic replay of that terrible night. He wanted to stop it from happening again, stop the events that separated a father and son for fifteen long, lonely years, but he was unable to prevent the atrocities, just as he'd been unable to stop it fifteen years before.

Focusing on the real reason he was there, he shouted again, "Peter!"

The storm clouds eased a bit, its winds dying down ever so slightly before they started up even stronger. The storm grew angrier and the explosions from the temple came with greater frequency and force. Caine's eyes squeezed shut as he filtered out the screams of the dying calling out for help, and forced himself to concentrate on Peter.

He called Peter's name again. The ripples of laughter he heard next were anything but heartwarming.

_"He can't hear you, Caine, because he is mine."_

Fear clutched at Caine's heart before it turned into anger. "He will never be yours."

_"If you cannot reach him, he is mine by default."_

"What have you done to him?"

_"I have merely showed him the error of his ways."_

Caine didn't want to think about what horrors the poltergeist had done to immobilize his normally resilient son. Instead, he said, "Release him."

_"No. He is the touchstone I will use to destroy every pathetic life in this house."_

Caine frowned. "Why?"

_"Because I can and I will."_

"Nothing can be gained by death."

_"You are mistaken. There is much to gain and the best part of it will be destroying you. Your cavalier efforts to right the wrongs of the world irritate me. Whatever made you think you had the right to intervene in the affairs of others?" _

"I merely try to help those in need."

The laughter returned, this time more heartily and just as frightening. The poltergeist's words sounded as though he knew Caine, but how and where? He wondered if it was another ploy of the ghost to further confuse and disorient him.

Caine took a step forward, returning to the task at hand. "Release my son!"

_"Come and get him..."_

The verbal gauntlet was cast. Caine reached out with his senses, trying to find Peter again when he came upon the invisible barrier that separated him from Peter once more. The lake scene disappeared, enveloped by the same darkness that was present before.

"Peter!"

When there was no answer, Caine took a deep breath and spread out his senses even further.

"Peter!"

The only thing he heard coming back to him were the discordant chuckles of a gloating victor as Caine was transported away from the lake setting without warning. That was when Kwai Chang knew the battle ahead would be far more difficult than any of them first thought.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Paul flexed the makeshift bandage on his burned palm. His shoulder was stiff, but the pain was tolerable. What wasn't good was looking at Peter's unmoving form. Paul noticed as Caine opened his eyes and looked around, appearing drained and pale. Lo Si knelt before him.

"What did you find?" Paul asked.

Caine's expression tightened. "Only resistance."

"You couldn't make contact with Peter?"

Caine shook his head. Peter was ominously still. His lack of movement disturbed Paul more than his earlier fretful state ever had.

Lo Si bowed his head as he said, "The poltergeist is preventing us from reaching him."

"How?"

"He will not allow any communication with Peter. This spirit's will is very strong. I do not know if we will be able to break through his interference."

Paul stood. "Maybe we need to focus on eliminating this blasted ghost before we can do anything else."

JD absently rubbed at his arm as he asked, "That's a damned sight easier said than done."

Paul smiled as he looked to JD, and then Caine. "Maybe it's time to play a friendly game of distraction."

A shift came to Caine's mood with Paul's comment and his eyes shone bright with a glint of understanding, replacing the worry and weakness present a moment before. Paul continued, "If we can keep him occupied, then you might be able to get through to Peter."

Caine nodded. "It has a chance for success."

Phoebe gasped unexpectedly, surprising all of them. When Paul looked at her, there was a faint outline surrounding her body. Paul's first thought was of another attack by the poltergeist and he reached over to pull her closer to him, but then saw the look of amazement in her expression.

She stammered, "I-I can hear him. I can hear Gordy talking to me-"

She stopped, her expression going from amazed to frightened in a flash. She spun around, moving toward Peter's body with a hand covering her mouth. Paul followed her wide-eyed gaze and saw Peter writhing in torment again.

Her voice was determined as she said, "Caine, Gordy's here and he says you've got to try to reach Peter again."

Caine stood awkwardly with JD's assistance, and then limped toward Phoebe. "You can communicate with Gordy?"

The realization of what she'd just said hit her hard. "I-I don't know how, but, yes, I can. He's worried about Peter. He says the poltergeist means to kill Peter, and then us."

"Well, that's certainly no surprise," Paul said.

Caine nodded. "It is what the poltergeist told me," he said and then paused, "You have a gift you have hidden from everyone, most of all yourself."

Her gaze met his. "I don't know how it's possible."

"And yet it is," he said softly.

She looked away in confusion before turning back toward Peter. She cocked her head to one side, and then nodded. "Gordy says we should begin our distractions while the poltergeist is still gone, so we can be ready for him when he returns."

"Where is the poltergeist?"

"Gordy says he went to the other side."

"That's convenient. How long do we have?"

"There's no way to know for sure."

Paul stepped closer to her. "What is it, Phoebe? You look puzzled."

"Not puzzled...I think I know why the poltergeist leaves so suddenly."

"Why is that?"

"I think it has something to do with his anger. Gordy says he was mad enough to spit nails as they passed each other crossing over...and somehow that anger weakens the poltergeist."

Paul smiled and placed a hand on Phoebe's shoulder. "You may have just given us our first weapon we can use against that damned thing. Good job, Phoebe. Let's get to work, people."

It was time to take the battle to the poltergeist.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**To Be Continued In Chapter 12**


	12. Chapter 12

1

**Chapter Twelve**

Paul looked to Caine and said, "Just bring him back to us, Caine. We'll take care of the rest. Hopefully, our ruse will give your enough time to do what you need to do."

"I will await my opportunity."

"Let's hope it's something obvious, so that you'll know for sure that it's our efforts at work."

Caine smiled. "I will know."

Paul put a hand to Caine's shoulder. "Good luck."

"Good luck to all of us," Caine said as he closed his eyes and began to take some deep breaths to go into another meditative state.

Paul moved over to where JD and Phoebe were. "Okay, Caine's ready to move once we've diverted the poltergeist's attention."

JD looked at Paul and rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "I have a feeling that ghost ain't gonna to be real happy when he sees what we're up to. It might get a tad dangerous for those of us doing the distracting."

"It's going to be dangerous either way," Paul replied grimly. He glanced over at Phoebe. She had been strangely quiet during their preparations. Paul moved to her side. "How are you doing with all of this?"

Her brows knitted together as she nodded. "It's just freaking me out that Gordy can talk to me and not the rest of you."

"Maybe it's because of your connection to Marty."

She nodded absently, still deep in thought. He rubbed his shoulder, gritting his teeth when the joint protested the touch and slowly released it. Finally, he asked, "Has Gordy said anything more about our plan?"

"No, he hasn't come back yet."

"Fine time for him to disappear on us," Paul groused.

"He said he had some things to take care of. He'll be back."

JD grunted. "He better be. We need him in our home court. It was always Gordy who came through with the winning play at our weekend tag football games."

"This is a little more important than the football games you boys used to play on my front lawn," Paul said softly.

Phoebe smiled bravely. "He won't let us down, JD."

Then she went quiet again. Her silences were starting to disturb Paul. He touched her arm. "Phoebe?"

She sighed. "The more I think about it, the more I think the poltergeist is much more dangerous than we can possibly know. I think..."

She paused.

Paul squeezed her arm again to keep her thoughts on the conversation. She looked up at him and sighed, "I think he has killed before."

Paul frowned. "How do you know that?"

Phoebe bit her lip and finally shrugged. "I'm beginning to understand what I've been seeing a little better now. When I talk to Gordy, the spirit world starts to unveil itself for me. I can see the things surrounding him and the poltergeist so much clearer now, but understanding what I'm seeing another thing entirely. Maybe if I wasn't so new to this, it would be easier."

Lo Si spoke up. "You can understand more than you think, my dear. This is a gift you have had most of your life, but you were told at a very young age to ignore it."

Phoebe's mouth dropped open. "How could you know-"

"How is not important. We all have our individual gifts. Yours frightened your mother so much that you couldn't acknowledge its presence until now."

Paul listened to Lo Si, but something that Phoebe had said caught his attention. "What kind of things did you mean, Phoebe? You said you could see things surrounding Gordy and the poltergeist more clearly. What did you mean?"

Phoebe didn't turn away from Lo Si right away, but she finally did and answered him. "I don't know. It's like trying to get a sense of a scene with a strobe light going off and on in the background. With some of the flashes, I can see Gordy so clearly, but then it goes dark again. It's the same with the poltergeist. Damn it, that makes no sense at all. I wish I could explain it better."

They were silent for a moment, and then JD spoke up, "I've been thinking about who this poltergeist might have been when he was alive."

Paul looked up at JD in surprise and then chided himself for not considering that aspect earlier. His mind whirled with possibilities as he thought back over Peter's past cases. "How do we narrow the field of possible suspects? Peter's been a cop for years now."

JD cleared his throat. "It might be Dwight Tucker. He was among those who died at the Seville explosion. It could be him."

"Yeah, but why attack Peter? Why not you? Why not Marty? Why choose Peter from all of the other people that were there that day?" Phoebe asked.

"We better not jump to conclusions," Paul cautioned.

JD sighed. "Okay, we're just guessing, but at least it's a start. We've got to start figuring out who this asshole is before people start dying. It's important knowledge we can use against him."

Paul folded his arms in front of him and shook his head. "Tucker never met Caine. Why attack him like he did if it was Tucker?"

"Because Caine was standing between the poltergeist and Peter! The same thing happened to you when you tried to stop him. Besides, why do most criminals do half of the things they do? Anyone here could be in the line of fire just by being in this house."

"There is another possibility we have not considered," Lo Si said before pausing. He met Phoebe's gaze as he said, "What if it is Marty?"

Phoebe looked dumbfounded before she found her voice. "How can it be Marty? He's not dead. Besides, Marty would never try to hurt any of his friends."

JD touched her shoulder. "Maybe he isn't the Marty we knew any more, darlin'. He's been trapped inside that body for five years, unable to move, unable to do anything. That could change a man."

"But..." Phoebe's eyes welled with tears. "I'd know if it was Marty, especially with the way I can see things now."

Paul scratched his eyebrow. "Look, this is getting us nowhere. We can guess from now until doomsday, but it won't help us one bit. We've got to find a way to beat this thing or people really will start dying."

Paul knew he had to keep them on track or they'd fall apart without direction. He only hoped the direction he gave them was the right one. They were running out of time.

**oOoOoOoOo**

"_It is such a secret place, the land of tears._" Caine recalled the quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupery as he looked upon the walls of the temple again, this time from just a few feet away.

"Is that where you are now, my son? In the land of tears? Is that why I cannot reach your heart? Come to me, Peter..." he whispered.

From a distance, Caine could hear Peter's voice murmuring disjointed phrases in Chinese, phrases he hadn't heard Peter use since his schooling at the temple. All he needed was a way inside, but how?

"Is that what you are doing now, Peter? Seeking solace in your secret place?" Kwai Chang whispered. It was maddening to be so close and yet so far away from his son.He looked up at the temple walls again. This time, they didn't seem quite as high. He smiled, thinking of Paul once more. "Perhaps this plan of yours has a chance to succeed."

Caine began a tour around the perimeter of the temple. He was going to find a way in and he had to be ready to act when Paul's distraction started.

**oOoOoOoOo**

JD sighed. Paul glanced over at him and patted him on the back. "Are you ready for this?"

"Ready for Armageddon? Hell, no," JD said honestly.

"The sooner this works, the sooner we can get out of here."

JD nodded and looked to Phoebe as she checked on Mike and Ray. Her head popped up and she smiled broadly, searching out JD and Paul. Something was happening. JD and Paul quickly came to her side. Mike and Ray were finally awake. JD put his hands on his hips and said, "Damn, boys, you two are a sight for sore eyes!"

Mike started to sit up, but stopped and held his head. "Wh-what happened?"

"Buddy, you don't even want to know," JD said as he squatted down, placing a hand on Mike's chest.

Paul knelt beside Ray. "How are you feeling?"

Ray groaned. "Like I've been locked inside a fifty gallon drum and rolled down a steep hill..."

Phoebe bent down and kissed them on the foreheads. "I was so worried about you two."

Mike finally took note of the living room and sat up on one elbow. He pointed to the mess and said with a hoarse voice, "I did not do this and I am not cleaning it up..."

Ray sat up too and whistled, meeting Mike's wide-eyed gaze. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."

Paul licked his lips. "No, we aren't, but I mean to change that real soon. How are you boys feeling? Up for a little trouble?"

A confused look passed between the two men. Paul put a hand on Phoebe's arm. "You and JD bring them up to speed. I need to talk to the Ancient."

Paul left them talking. He could hear the disbelief ringing in Mike and Ray's voices and it almost made him smile. Almost. But that notion disappeared when he realized they had no time for levity. Their very lives depended upon the success of their plan.

**oOoOoOoOo**

"Yo, Blaisdell, you ready to par-ty?" Mike said as they approached a short time later. He sounded like his usual wise-cracking self, but Paul could tell the effort was forced, his voice still showing the strain of nearly being strangled.

Paul played along with him anyway. "No time like the present. You sure you're up for this?"

"I'm ready, but I'm not so sure about Ray. His mustache is sagging. Maybe-"

Ray tapped Mike on the arm. "Hey, speak for yourself, Denton. I'm doing better than you are, and I'm twice as pretty."

"Not with that shiner you aren't."

Paul gave them a closer look. Mike and Ray still looked pretty shaky, but they were on their feet. Up to a few minutes before, Paul had been sure the two men would be out of action for the duration. He sighed. Maybe it would have been better for them if they had sat this one out, but that decision wasn't up to him.

"So what do you want us to do?" Mike asked.

"I want you to be careful," he said quietly. "Just do what the Ancient says to do."

"Yeah, right. You mean just sit by the sidelines like good little boy scouts. Well, I never was a bench warmer and I'm not about to start now."

JD shook his head. "Damn it, Denton, if you'd just shut that danged mouth of yours and listen, you might learn something. No one is sitting anything out. We'll all be doing our part."

Mike frowned and turned to Paul. "That right?"

"That's right. Here's the game plan."

Paul spoke quickly, going over their strategy. When he was done, he said, "This is all subject to change. We'll have to stay fluid, ready to shift according to the poltergeist's responses."

Mike looked around warily. "This...poltergeist...how do you know it ain't listening in on us right now?"

Phoebe smiled. "Because I would know or Gordy would tell us."

Mike's lips pursed together. "No, Phebe, you mean our dead friend, Gordy the ghost, would communicate to you specifically, in a way only you can hear, about the presence of another ghost, an evil ghost, a ghost that wants to kill us all."

Phoebe didn't react to his sarcasm at all and replied, "Yes, that's it exactly."

Mike hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I don't frigging believe this!"

"If you don't believe it, Denton, how do you explain the bruises around your neck or Peter's neck, or the reason why I crashed into the wall, or why-" Ray said, exasperation clear in his voice.

"Okay, okay, you've got everything under control. I'll just shut my big mouth. It's what you all want anyway. I'm just a lowly Italian from Philly. They don't have ghosts in Philly, you know. You'd get laughed out of town before you even tried to tell them half this story."

The others let Mike rant. He might have been upset when he first started, but by the time he ended, he seemed resolved to tolerate the situation. "So back to what I said before, I'm ready." He eyed Lo Si as he sat meditating on the floor of the living room and whispered, "That old guy do many of these things before?"

JD put his hand on Mike's dark hair and ruffled it. "This is his first, but don't worry, I'll watch out for you, Michael."

Denton glared at JD. "That's supposed to put me at ease, Jedidiah?"

Everyone watched JD for signs of his erupting anger, but the tall man merely sighed and joined Lo Si on the floor. Mike winked at Ray and Phoebe, and then followed him. Paul was the last to move into position. He couldn't be with a braver group of people. He only hoped bravery would be enough to survive what was ahead.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	13. Chapter 13

1

**Chapter Thirteen**

Paul watched Lo Si take a deep breath before looking up at the others. They sat in a circle on the floor of the living room amidst the destruction. All of Phoebe's prized possessions now lay in shattered fragments. Mike, Ray, and JD whispered comments back and forth while Phoebe remained strangely silent.

Paul watched her for another moment before glancing to Marty in his wheelchair. Nothing of the night's nightmarish events seemed to have phased him. That thought gave Paul more insight into Phoebe's silence. After all, her newly remodeled home was now in ruins; her deceased brother-in-law was communicating with her from beyond the dead; and her friends were bruised, bleeding, and fighting for their lives.

Any of those reasons could be behind her silence, but Paul had a feeling there was something more going on. He only wished she would share it if it became something crucial to their survival.

"My friends, it is time to begin," Lo Si said solemnly.

"Tell me again what we need to do. I've never done anything like this before and since our lives depend on it, I'd like to make it work the first time," Mike said nervously.

The Ancient gave him a slight smile. "We will begin the seance in a moment, but first we call for as many protective spirits as possible to join us. Do not worry." Lo Si eyed Mike closely. "While it is my first time doing this, I have heard extensive stories about seances."

Mike's eyes bulged with Lo Si's comment. "Well, so have I, but they were stories told late at night when I was twelve to scare the crap out of my friends. Geez Louise!"

Ray spoke up next, ignoring Mike. "You really think this is going to work?"

As he waited for a reply, Ray carefully rubbed at the swelling on the side of his face. Black and blue bruising painted a colorful landscape along his cheekbone where he'd hit the wall.

"It would be fortuitous if we were to succeed without further effort. Remember, while this is merely a diversion, the danger to all of us remains great."

"Yeah, but if we don't do anything, we're dead anyway," JD muttered.

Phoebe was sitting next to him and patted him on the thigh. "It's going to work. It has to."

Lo Si asked, "Is Gordy here?"

Phoebe smiled. "Yes, he is. He says to stop screwing around and start already."

As the others chuckled, Lo Si said, "Let us do as he asks. Please take the hands of those beside you. Do not release your grasp for any reason. If the circle is broken, we will have no defense. Now, just breathe deeply and focus on the instructions I have given you."

Lo Si closed his eyes and said, "I call upon those spirits who will protect us to join us in this home. We will need your protection against an evil one. All spirits in the area please join us now. Bring your strength to join with ours."

Nothing happened that Paul could see, but the others looked around in nervous anticipation. Everyone except Phoebe. She sat with her eyes tightly closed and sweat was beading on her forehead.

Lo Si continued, "I call upon those spirits who will protect us. Please join us now."

He repeated himself a few more times before opening his eyes. He turned to Phoebe beside him. "Tell me what you see."

She opened her eyes and looked around the room, her mouth dropping open. "Oh my God, my grandmother is here. Grandmother, and so many more, the place is filled with them. I recognize some of the others, but there's so many I don't know. Who are they all?"

"They are the spirits of loved ones who have died, but remain in a sphere of influence around us. They watch over us until they are ready to move on or it is time for us to move on. Their presence is what we want and need. Who better to protect us than those who once loved us?"

Lo Si continued, "Thank you to all spirits here for joining us now. We will need all of you to help us defeat the evil one, the poltergeist who has taken up residence here. Do you have any advice before we begin?"

Turning to Phoebe again, he said, "Listen to them and tell me what they say."

Phoebe swallowed. Paul watched as her head turned in one direction and then another. "I can hear them," she whispered. "I can hear them, but there's so many...please speak one at a time. I can't understand you when everyone is talking at the same time."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, that's better."

She went silent for a moment. "I'm being told that we must work quickly once you draw out the poltergeist, because when he shows up, all hell is going to break loose." She glanced in another direction. "The spirits here will help protect us, but even so, it will take all of them working together to stand between us and the poltergeist."

"May I begin now?" Lo Si asked.

"Yes, they say we must hurry."

Lo Si nodded once and closed his eyes again. "Then let us start. I call upon the poltergeist. You will come here! You will show yourself to us now!"

The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Paul didn't need Phoebe's ability to see spirits to know that the poltergeist was with them again. He glanced around the circle. Phoebe was beside Lo Si, and JD was on her other side. JD was holding hands with Marty, and Ray held Marty's other hand. Mike held Ray's hand and also Caine's. Paul had Caine and Peter's hands. Lo Si finished up the circle by grasping Peter's hand in his.

The anticipated whirlwind began in earnest, whipping around them like enemies attacking in the dead of night. The cold continued to grow as the winds strengthened. Paul could only hope the poltergeist would take the bait and that Caine's rescue of Peter would be just as quick.

Lo Si raised his voice and shouted, "You are ordered out of this home and out of the lives of everyone here!"

A chuckle began to resonant within the whirlwind._ "No."_

"You are ordered out of this house and out of the lives of everyone here!"

Each time Lo Si repeated his order, the wind grew stronger. Debris was starting to fly through the air, hitting those in the circle. Paul knew with certainty life was about to get even more complicated.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Caine wandered through the empty corridors of the temple, not quite sure where to look for Peter. He stopped as a thought occurred to him, and then changed direction in the next second, hurrying as he grew more confident. He was breathless by the time he opened the door to Peter's bedroom.

There, hiding under his child's bed, was the adult version of his son. Peter didn't react to Caine's touch, a fact that disturbed Caine. Peter's face was turned away from the edge of the bed, so Caine couldn't see him clearly. Kwai Chang bent down and brushed his fingers through Peter's hair, and whispered loving words of encouragement. "Peter, I've come for you. You are safe, but we must hurry. We only have a small window of opportunity open for escape."

He took Peter's cold fingers in his and kissed them. "Peter?"

There was no answer, not even a sign that Peter had even heard him, but he kept on. "Peter, we must hurry. The others are awaiting for your return. Come."

Caine shifted position to take hold of Peter's arm. He gently pulled on him, but stopped when he heard a quietly whispered, "No."

Kwai Chang bent down to look at Peter more closely. Peter's eyes were barely open, but his jaw was rock hard with emotion.

"Peter?"

"I said no."

"I-I do not understand. Are you hurt?"

Peter's eyes opened fully and he turned his hardened gaze on Caine. "Go and tell the others to forget about me."

There was little of the Peter Kwai Chang knew reflected in his hazel eyes. "What?"

Peter sighed and Caine became entranced by Peter's stone cold gaze. "You heard me, just go. Now."

Caine stammered, "Peter, please-please, come with me. We can talk about this lat-"

Peter shook his head once. "No, we can't. I'm staying and you're leaving."

Caine pulled back and rested on his heels. "Explain."

Peter looked away as he pursed his lips together. "You don't need to know all the gory details. You did your part. You tried to save me. But I don't want to be saved...I don't deserve to be saved, so go. Now."

Caine reached out toward Peter, but the young man avoided his touch. "Peter?"

Peter took a deep breath and began to curse as he crawled out from under the bed on his own. "You heard me, damn it! You heard every word, but you still aren't moving. Go on, get the hell out of here before I kick you out myself."

"What has caused this change?"

"Life. Reality. Call it a very delayed reaction. Whatever. It was something I should have seen for myself years ago. If I had, there might be people I care about still alive and walking, instead of six feet under."

Caine swallowed. Now he could see how the poltergeist was able to keep Peter away from him. Peter didn't want to be found. Something had made him give up. No, not something. The poltergeist had driven Peter into giving up.

"Peter, please listen to me..."

"No, that's the problem. I've listened to you ever since you came back into my life, then I went to you each time something went wrong and listened some more. The problem is I can't buy into your idealistic world. It isn't working for me, mostly because I've screwed up too much. I've made big mistakes. Too much has gone wrong, and there's no way I can ever make amends for it, so I'm staying here."

"No, there are other options-"

"You don't get it, do you? I don't want any more options! I want to be left alone! You, Paul, the others...why can't people just understand I want to be left alone?"

"Peter, please let me speak..."

"No, it's time for you to listen. It just hurts too damned much to go back again. I've-I've caused so much pain for those I love. How...how can I ever face that world again knowing what I know now?"

"All you know right now are the poltergeist's machinations. They are not based in truth. Deal only with known facts and without emotion. The truth is there. You simply need to see it for yourself," he paused and then tried a different approach. "Peter, we need your help to defeat this foe."

"You need my...help? Don't you know what you're asking? Why not jump in front of a moving train instead? It might be way less painful for everyone concerned that way!"

"Peter, you are a threat to the poltergeist. Do not let his untruths dissuade you. If you do, you will be giving him exactly what he seeks. You must believe you are stronger than he is. You must believe this, because you are stronger. You have a good heart and that is something this aberration cannot defeat."

"I don't frigging believe you! How can you say I'm strong when all I want to do is run?"

"You have never run from a single thing in your life, my son," he paused and sighed. "Peter, we all have times where we must regroup, where we must restore our strengths. That is what this secret place does for you, but you cannot linger here now. Your secret place has been transformed into a place of torment and nightmares. It no longer has what you seek."

"But what about all those people who are dead because of me...because I screwed up? What about them?"

"Peter, what about the people you have saved? What about the lives you have enriched with your presence. The saved lives far outweigh the lost ones. Look for balance and perspective, and you will see the good you have done. It is a thousand times greater than any mistake."

"Is that supposed to absolve me of any sins? Is that all it takes? I just have to tell myself that I've done so much good I can forget all about the bad?"

"No, you simply have to tell yourself the truth. In each of those situations, you did the best you could do."

"It wasn't enough, was it?"

"Peter, why do you blame yourself when no one else does? Please come back to the others. The poltergeist still means to kill everyone in this home. Your friends need your help to stop him."

"You're wrong. My friends don't need me to save them. They need you. Go do what you do best. Save them and forget about me."

Peter started to walk away but was stopped by Caine's hand on his forearm. "Peter, we cannot do this alone. We need you, we need your fire, your heart..."

Peter spun around, jerking his arm free, and he brought his fist up as if to strike Caine. Caine's heart nearly broke as he watched Peter battle his inner demons. After a moment, Peter's hand dropped away. Tears filled the young man's eyes before he turned from him. "Go, Pop. Get the hell out of here before I do something we'll both regret."

"Peter..."

"Forget it," Peter whispered and took off at a dead run. "Forget me."

Caine sighed deeply, pausing for a moment before he began to run after him.

**oOoOoOoOo**

"Shit," Mike whispered under his breath when something hit him in the back.

Ray's eyes went wide when he looked across Mike and Caine, staring at Paul in disbelief. "This is what you guys have been dealing with all night?"

Paul nodded.

"Damn," he whispered.

Paul glanced around the maelstrom going on around them and took a deep breath. They were only getting started with the poltergeist's abuse.

"Remain strong, my friends. Do not break the circle for any reason!" Lo Si called over the rising noise.

Paul remembered Phoebe and he looked across the circle to her. She was rigid, her knuckles white as she clasped the hands of Lo Si and JD.

"JD, is she okay?" he asked.

The Texan glanced over to her. "Who can tell? She's got my hand in a vise grip."

He'd barely finished speaking when Phoebe's eyes blinked open. Her unseeing gaze stared at some point over Paul's shoulder. She looked terrified and mesmerized at the same time. Paul wished he knew if that was a good thing or not. Her shrill cry moments later made him jump even with all of the other noise in the room.

"NO! GORDY!" she shouted, panic-stricken.

Paul looked around, meeting the eyes of those still conscious. Apparently, Gordy was now gone. Tears trickled down Phoebe's face. Things had just shifted from bad to worse.

_"Phoebe,"_ the creepy voice whispered and the noise died down some.

When the voice spoke again, Paul thought it almost sounded familiar. _"Don't push yourself so hard, honey. Things will work out in the end."_

All the blood drained from Phoebe's face and her gently flowing tears began to stream down her cheeks. Fire came into JD's eyes and he shouted, "Shut up, you goddamned asshole!"

JD looked to Paul, breathing hard. "That manipulative bastard is using Marty's voice to tease Phoebe with things Marty used to say to her! We've got to shut him up!"

Mike spoke in a low calm tone. "Take a deep breath, buddy. You don't want to fall into the trap Casper, the unfriendly ghost, is trying to use on us. It may sound like Marty, but it's not him. It's not him."

Mike's last words were directed at Phoebe. She had recovered a bit, but still seemed badly shaken. She nodded without conviction, making Mike continue to search the others for confirmation. "It's not Marty."

"Damned straight," Ray said, nodding his head. "That can't be Marty."

Paul had no time for debates. He wasn't sure how long they had before the poltergeist would pounce on them again. "Talk to us, Phoebe. We need to know about the things we can't see."

Phoebe licked her lips. "The poltergeist sent Gordy to the other side."

Paul thought for a moment. "He's done that before."

"Yes, but there was so much going on when it happened last time, I'm not sure how it happened, but when Gordy left just now, I swear I heard him scream in pain."

Paul pursed his lips. "What else is happening?"

"We'd all be dead if it wasn't for the protective spirits around us. They have shielded us from the brunt of the devil winds."

Paul nodded. "Any word from our other friends?"

Paul hoped Phoebe would understand his meaning. He didn't want to tip the poltergeist off to their plan. She shook her head. Lo Si raised his chin in Paul's direction as he said to everyone, "We must remain strong. Hold tightly to those around you."

Then Lo Si closed his eyes. "We cast you away from this house, away from the possessions here, away from the people inside. Leave us!"

He began speaking in Chinese and that seemed to drive the poltergeist into a renewed frenzy, but Lo Si didn't let up. Paul tightened his grip on the hands of the two unconscious Caine men on either side of him, praying he could continue to hold onto them as things worsened. In his heart, Paul knew things were about to go to hell...in more ways than one.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	14. Chapter 14

1**Chapter Fourteen**

Caine stopped running and paused to catch his breath. He hadn't seen any sign of Peter since he'd bolted from his room, but something drew Caine back to the lake. The full moon above gave plenty of light to see the landscape below.

Peter's secret place at the temple had been a secluded cove at the lake. Caine followed the water's edge past the trees lining the shore, stepping carefully over the slippery tree roots where there was no other way to go, holding on to tree trunks for support until he was clear of the roots. As he stepped onto the moist soil, he looked for Peter again and was disappointed not to see him.

He'd been so sure that Peter would have been waiting for him there. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reaching out with his other senses. He smiled when he detected Peter's essence close by, but the young man still masked his location. Caine went to the spot where Peter usually sat to skim stones across the lake's surface and settled down on the grass.

He decided if Peter wasn't going to talk to him, he'd have to be the one to do the talking. He swallowed and began, "Sakuladyl the Wanderer once asked the Buddha, _'What is the past and what is the future?'_

_"'Let the past be,' _answered Buddha, _'and forget the future. I will teach that which is now.'"_

Caine paused for effect before speaking again, "That is what we are dealing with here, Peter. The now, this present moment, it is before us and we must act in order for there to be a future."

Peter's voice was low, but there was none of his previous anger present. "A man with my kind of a past doesn't need a future. He needs an end."

Caine smiled slightly. Begging Peter to leave for his own sake hadn't worked, but Peter had a weakness for debate and an unquenchable hunger for the truth. Caine continued, "What may be the end to one person can be a beginning for another. You are the only one who can say what you really need."

Maybe Peter wasn't ready to admit it, but Caine knew he was looking for answers, for a way to work through his pain, and Caine meant to help him find it. He continued, "I once had a friend who told me the past is history, the future is a mystery, and all we have is the gift of the present to anchor us on firm ground."

"Sounds like a lot of bullshit to me," Peter grumbled.

"Would you not like to have firm ground beneath your feet, my son? You have been standing on shifting sands for months now. Perhaps together we can find that better footing."

"Why would it work now and not before?"

"Because you had not looked into the darkest parts of your heart until now."

Peter grunted. "And the truth will set me free? Yeah, right."

Caine heard the sarcastic edge return to Peter's voice and knew he was about to lose Peter's interest.

"The only way to find out if there is something deeper inside of us is to dig and that usually involves pain, but it is only by digging that we discover our true strengths buried down deep. You have to believe there is something worth holding on for, Peter. I do not care what it is that you cling to, but you must hold tight to something in order to survive, and you are nothing if not a survivor."

Caine held his breath, waiting for a response. When none came, he began to believe he had lost Peter. Then Peter stepped out from behind a tree, but not any further.

"I may be a survivor, but I'm pretty damned tired of holding on."

"Then rest and I shall hold on for both of us."

Peter's eyes glimmered with tears in the moonlight as he tentatively crossed the distance between them. "You just won't give up, will you? Like a dog with a bone. Except you aren't fighting to hold on to a bone, you're just trying to hold on to me..."

Caine nodded firmly. He went to touch Peter when Peter threw one hand up into the air and spun around, turning his back to his father. He stood like that for a long moment, looking ready to bolt, but something held him in place. In a voice so low Caine barely heard it, Peter muttered, "God, this has to be where I get that stubborn streak everyone complains about!"

Kwai Chang reached out and touched Peter's shoulder. Peter shuddered under his touch. "Please don't," Peter whispered.

Caine didn't move his hand away, instead he stepped around to face Peter and looked deep into his son's eyes. "I would never leave you alone to battle the poltergeist, not even if it meant my own end."

He could see the tears threatening in Peter's eyes begin to fall as his chin trembled. "I've made so many mistakes, Father."

"Then you have proved you are human, just like the rest of us."

Peter shook his head gently, but didn't move away from Caine's touch. He squeezed his eyes shut, making the tears fall in a steady stream. Caine moved closer, placing his hands on Peter's shoulders. "We may have been separated once by forces beyond our control, but I will never willingly be parted from you again, and especially not to a force as dark as the poltergeist."

With that, Peter folded into Caine's embrace and Caine felt tears of his own falling. Neither man spoke for a long while, and then Peter took a ragged breath, whispering, "Not even when I push you away like an insolent brat?"

Peter wiped at his face with the back of one hand, but he didn't move away. Kwai Chang pulled back a bit and put a curled finger under Peter's chin to lift his head. "You love the same way you live, at one hundred percent, insolent brat or not."

Caine stared into Peter's eyes. His son's features were touched by love and amazement, yet there was still some hesitancy there. He smiled and said, "And I am a better man for your love, my son."

Kwai Chang brought both hands up to rest on Peter's cheeks. He took a deep breath, not breaking his eye contact with Peter. "Now, are you ready to leave this place and go back to the others?"

Peter nodded.

Caine continued, "It will not be easy. The poltergeist will still be out there. In fact, he is probably attacking our friends as we speak."

Peter's head jerked up and his gaze darted around the night sky. "Attacking? You said something about that before, but I didn't pay attention to it. We can't let them battle that monster alone. I did and look what happened to me."

Caine sighed, still feeling Peter's pain, but he was immeasurably strengthened by his son's courage. He took one last moment to pat Peter on the cheek and smiled. "Yes, let us go and end this confrontation."

There was determination in Peter's stance, but there was also direction, as if Peter was now a man with a mission, and perhaps, for the first time in months, he was.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Somehow, Paul heard Phoebe's words above the rising crescendo, "Spirits, protect my friends as best you can. We must hold on a little longer."

When she paused, Lo Si's voice broke through as he began another long tirade in Chinese. Paul had no idea what the Ancient was saying, but it had a dramatic effect on the poltergeist. There was a long, chilling howl and then everything went silent.

Lo Si took a quick gasp of air and smiled at Phoebe for a split second before he slumped toward her. Paul looked at the group. They all looked worse for wear, but they were still alive.

He glanced to Phoebe. "Can we let go now?"

Phoebe consulted the spirits and smiled. "Yes, they say it is okay."

That was all Paul needed to hear and he was up, checking on the others. He stopped beside JD and pressed his hand over the reopened cut on JD's arm as it bled freely. JD hissed and cursed under his breath as Paul applied the pressure.

"Is the poltergeist gone for good?" Paul asked, looking to Phoebe as she moved Lo Si to lie on the ground beside her, her fingers lingering on his weathered face.

"I think he's just unconscious. He's tough for an old guy," she said as she looked up at Paul, and then paused as if remembering his question. She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

She glanced to Paul still holding JD's arm. "Let me tend to him. You can check on the others," she said softly.

"No, I can help myself, thank you kindly," JD said with irritation, moving his other hand up to grasp the cut, "I'm not unconscious, you know."

Paul gave JD a quick grin and moved over to give Caine and Peter closer examination. Looking back to Phoebe, he said, "Okay, so the poltergeist isn't gone for good...how long do we have before he returns?"

She shrugged and got to her knees, moving over to Marty's wheelchair. "There's no way to know for sure, but I..." she paused as she searched Marty for injuries, and then she glanced around in disbelief. "He...Marty...he doesn't have a scratch on him. How is that possible?"

Her wide eyes went Paul for answers. This time, he had to shrug. "It isn't."

Ray interrupted them. "Mike! Mike! Stay with me, buddy!"

Paul spun around to see Ray trying to keep Mike from toppling over. There was blood, lots of it, but Paul couldn't see the injury. "Mike! Listen to me, you idiot," Ray said in a softer voice.

Mike was barely conscious. "Chill, bro...you sound like you're gonna blow a gasket or something."

Ray looked to Paul in fear, and then to JD and Phoebe, before looking back at him. "Shut up, you moron. Don't you know enough to be stay quiet when you're hurt? What am I saying, you're never quiet..."

Mike slumped in Ray's arms. Ray stared at him for a moment before raising a hand wet with blood. "He's losing too much blood too fast."

There was something in Ray's voice that raised warning flags for Paul. Maybe it was the distant tone or the sudden lack of emotion, but Paul started moving in Ray's direction. JD was already there and caught Ray before he fell over on top of Mike. Now Paul could see a bleeding injury on Ray's shoulder that accounted for Ray's unconsciousness. Paul met JD's troubled gaze and then looked back to Phoebe beside Marty. "What do the spirits say about this?"

She didn't miss a beat as she grabbed some towels from a kitchen drawer and went to Mike's side. She tossed a couple to JD. "They say to pray. A lot."

"Great," Paul whispered under his breath.

Paul rubbed his sore shoulder, and then pulled his hand away in irritation. A little pain was nothing compared to the other injuries around him. It was time to put things into perspective, but it didn't take a genius to know they were in over their heads and sinking fast.

Phoebe finished with Mike, leaving JD to apply pressure to where Mike had been hit by flying shrapnel. It didn't look like there was internal damage, but there was no way to know for sure.

"Ray's wound isn't as serious as Mike's but they both need to be in a hospital. I've done all I can do for them right now," Phoebe said quietly, wiping Mike's blood from her hands. She sighed, staring at them for a moment. "I gave Peter a hard time about bleeding when he got that gash on his head last night and now...now, it feels like I can't escape the blood. It's all around us."

Her voice started to rise with an edge of panic. Paul touched her shoulder. "Hang in there, Phoebe. We need you. Just try to focus on what we need to do next."

Phoebe's gaze darted around the room. She nodded and her forehead crinkled as she fought to concentrate. Paul patted her shoulder gently. "Do you remember anything else from what you saw during the attack?"

The lines on her brow deepened and she nodded. "Yes. The poltergeist's spirit is consumed with hatred and revenge. I wish there was more, but that's all I can get from him right now. He's angry and that anger fuels his actions, at least until he gets too mad and his anger sends him back to the other side."

JD looked up from Mike's side. "What about Gordy? Is he okay?"

Phoebe nodded. "I think so."

"What do you think the poltergeist will do when he comes back?" JD asked.

Mike's hoarse voice came from the floor where he was lying. "Well, he isn't going to want to kiss your boots, Jedidiah, even though they are very pretty ones."

JD's mouth tightened into a thin line before it softened. "Shut up, Denton," he whispered as he knelt beside him.

The temperature dropped and a whirlwind started up again without warning. Paul looked to Phoebe and JD. "Pull the injured into the center of the circle. Maybe it will help us to protect them."

They worked quickly, and then went to their knees beside them on the perimeter, trying to shield the injured from further trauma as they held hands, their arms stretched out full length to include everyone in their circle. The angle was creating havoc with Paul's shoulder, but that was the least of his worries. He spoke without looking at Phoebe, "Do our protective spirits have any other ideas how to protect the injured?"

She looked up and then shook her head. "They will block as much as they can."

He nodded. That might help some. Then again, it hadn't stopped Mike or Ray from being hurt. Without warning, the winds died down, but the poltergeist's activities did not. The room seemed to be too small as it was filled with maddeningly loud wails and screams. The furniture began to move on its own. Rank, obnoxious smells made the air hard to breathe without gagging.

The power came on and off with vicious speed, blinding them only to cast them into relative darkness a moment later. By the time their eyes adjusted to the lower lighting provided by the small emergency wall lights, other lights would blaze to life and the cycle repeated. It took all he had not to give into his fear at the madness unfolding around him.

Paul tensed when small fires started breaking out around them. With no ventilation in the house, the risk of smoke inhalation or carbon monoxide poisoning was very real. JD looked to Paul and shook his head. Paul recognized the bleak look in JD's eyes and knew he was thinking the very same thing. Their situation had gone to hell in a handbasket as Peter liked to say, only this time, there was no joking involved. Without some type of break in the action, they wouldn't be around for much longer.

The blinds above the sofa went bright with flames. Paul stopped, staring at the strange flames. JD was the first to point it out. "Look at that! The metal is melting, but the wood around it isn't burning, like it isn't a flame there at all."

Paul remembered Caine's words. _A poltergeist can attach itself to a person or object, and things can escalate rapidly to a climax. Sometimes, it is dramatic, and sometimes it becomes deadly._

It seemed to Paul that they were on an ever increasing escalation without any sign of easing. Well, the damned thing would have to peak out sooner or later. He just hoped they were still around when it did.

**oOoOoOoOo**

A short time later, Paul watched Phoebe brush back her strawberry blonde hair from her eyes and sighed. He held his fingers close to the last embers of the burning blinds. There was no heat, but he had to touch them anyway, as if to confirm his eyes weren't playing some strange trickery. He let his hand drop to his side and looked around. Most of the fires were out, but it was impossible to know the extent of the invisible threat of carbon monoxide. The poltergeist had left them alone for the moment, but who knew how long that would last?

He glanced down at Peter and Caine beside him while JD gave Mike and Ray a quick once over a short distance away. Phoebe's smile caught Paul's attention. The Ancient was slowly beginning to move. Paul met her gaze and they both breathed a sigh of relief to have Lo Si back in their corner again. There was just too much they didn't know about the poltergeist that Caine and Lo Si did.

Paul chewed on his lower lip as he stared down at Peter. Peter's skin was pale where it wasn't bruised or bloodied. He reached forward and brushed his fingers along sweaty Peter's forehead. He heard a soft moan and glanced over to see Caine starting to come around. Paul put a hand to Caine's shoulder as the man opened his eyes. After a moment, his gaze became more focused.

"Where-" Caine started, but stopped himself.

His eyes went wide with concern as he said, "Peter?"

Paul pressed his hand more firmly on Caine's shoulder as he tried to sit up. "Wait a moment, Caine. Give your body a little more time before you try to move around. Peter's right here beside you."

Caine glanced over and let out a quick breath. Paul looked at Caine more closely. Like Peter, he was battered and pale, but the color was returning to his face. "How did it go, Caine? Were you successful?"

"Yes, he is back with us again." Kwai Chang said as he smiled slightly. Then he glanced around the room, sniffing at the air. "What happened here?"

Paul sighed and looked around himself. The damage to the home was extensive. "The poltergeist made a few runs at us, but we managed to stay out of its reach, though Mike and Ray are down again with new injuries."

Caine nodded and Paul continued, "Some fires broke out, but they're out now. Though, it was strangest type of fire I've ever seen. The blinds burned without heat."

Caine raised one eyebrow with that description. "Interesting, but it is consistent with the descriptions I have heard of with poltergeist activity."

Kwai Chang started to sit up. This time, Paul didn't stop him. When he was up, Paul pulled a nearby arm chair over behind Caine, so that he could rest his back against it. It was obvious Caine's injured knee was causing him considerable discomfort as he relaxed against the chair.

"We made some interesting discoveries while you were gone," Paul started as he sat back and leaned against a coffee table. "Phoebe says the poltergeist's anger makes him go back to the other side to recharge his batteries before returning. That's why we get these lulls in the action. Does that make any sense to you?"

Caine closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Paul was taken back by the intensity of emotion present there. "Yes, what is more, this poltergeist takes great pleasure in tormenting all of us, but you are correct, most of his pleasure is derived from what he does to my son and me."

A loud groan from Peter interrupted them, signaling his return to consciousness. "Son of a bitch," Peter whispered as he clutched his ribs.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, his taut expression eased. He smiled weakly as he looked up at them. "Hello," he said softly.

"How are you doing?" Paul asked.

"I've been better," Peter replied, shifting as if trying to find a more comfortable position.

Caine reached over and put a hand to Peter's forehead. Paul knew what Caine was doing, but he was still surprised to see Peter's skin tones quickly shift to something more normal. Caine smiled and brushed his fingers across Peter's brow as he looked to Paul. "I think he is strong enough to sit up now."

Paul glanced to Phoebe for confirmation. She nodded and leaned down to help Peter up. Paul went to lend a hand, but stopped as he stared at Phoebe. She helped to ease Peter against the wall, and then glanced up at Paul, catching him as he watched her.

"What is it?" she asked self-consciously.

Paul looked to Peter and Caine. "Look at her," he said in a quiet voice.

Peter's gaze darted to Phoebe and back to Paul. "What?" Peter asked.

Paul stared at her as he gestured with one hand. "She's got a few minor cuts, but isn't it strange she hasn't received the extent of injuries that the rest of us have? It's the same for Marty."

Phoebe looked down her arms and over to Marty. "I-I don't understand it myself."

Paul swallowed. "Maybe I do," he said softly. "It all makes sense if you think of Marty as being behind this..."

Phoebe's reaction was immediate and dramatic. "It isn't Marty! He isn't dead! Damn it, he isn't dead! I don't want to hear another word about Marty being behind this!"

Paul looked down, but didn't say anything. Caine broke the uncomfortable silence. "I do not believe it is Marty."

Paul turned to him. "How do you know?"

Caine's reply was interrupted by an exclamation from Phoebe. "Gordy! You're back!"

There was a pause and then she turned to Caine. "Gordy says you need to talk to Marty right away."

Caine's gaze narrowed. "I do not know if I can."

Phoebe's expression tightened. "You were able to reach Peter through the poltergeist's interference. Maybe you can do the same thing for Marty."

Caine's expression was dark and he shook his head. "I knew I could reach Peter, because of our connection as father and son. I am not so sure that I will be able to reach Marty the same way."

Phoebe glanced back to where she'd been looking before. "He says you have to make contact now or else it's only going to get worse."

Paul leaned closer to Peter. "What is she talking about?"

Before Peter could answer him, Phoebe interrupted. Her voice was tight as she said, "He says there's no time for explanations. Will you try or not?"

Caine swallowed and looked to Peter before turning back to her. "I will try."

Peter put a hand to Caine's arm. "Maybe you should rest a few minutes before trying something like that, Pop. You're awfully weak still and-" Peter stopped in mid-sentence, and then practically growled with frustration, pulling away from Caine.

Every muscle in Peter's face seemed to reflect concern mixed with anger, a reaction to something Paul couldn't see or hear. Peter stammered, "Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Gordy, but can't it wait a min-"

Again, Phoebe interrupted. "Stop stalling, Peter. You heard him, Gordy says it can't wait. Marty is slipping deeper under the poltergeist's influence. If we don't hurry, it will be too late!"

Peter took a deep breath, but nodded. Paul stared at him, and then sighed. It seemed as if they'd spent the entire night reacting to the poltergeist's moves like they were pinballs in an arcade game with the poltergeist working the flippers.

Phoebe looked to Gordy's location again and her brow furrowed in confusion as if listening intently. Without warning, Peter slammed an elbow into the wall beside him and cursed like he was cursing the devil himself. Paul straightened as he watched the depth of Peter's reaction, knowing something was very wrong.

"Okay, I'll ask them, Gordy..." she said as she turned back to the others. "Does the name Tan mean anything to you?"

Paul looked around the room. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he saw it happen to Caine's. Kwai Chang's mouth gaped open, but no words came out. Meanwhile, Peter's face had gone red with fury. He threw back his head and shouted, "DAMN IT!"

Paul swallowed back several questions and limited himself to the most important one. "Why?"

It was obvious whatever Peter heard from Gordy further infuriated him. Peter pushed away from the wall and cursed again, "Son of a bitch!"

Phoebe frowned, distracted by their reactions. "I guess it's not good. Who is he?"

Paul shook his head. A knot formed in his gut and twisted. Of course, now everything fell into place. Apparently, he was the only one able to find his voice, so he answered for them, "Trouble with a capital T. What does Gordy know about him?"

Peter caught Paul with a piercing glance. "Gordy says when he was coming back from the other side, he heard the poltergeist say,_ 'You can't get rid of Tan that easily_.'"

Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Son of a bitch! It's Tan! Leave it to him to come back from the grave for vengeance!"

The knot that had been in Paul's gut wasn't twisting any longer, it was slicing a path all the way to his heart. Tan, the man who was responsible for the destruction of the Shaolin temple Peter and Caine had lived in, the man responsible for their fifteen year separation and the same man who had kidnapped the Ancient and tried to kill father and son one last time. Tan was back, and in a very dangerous way.

Paul looked to Caine and found his expression furrowed, yet still inscrutable, but Peter's wasn't. It reflected all the fury Paul expected to see there. He knew exactly what was going on inside Peter's mind and he couldn't blame him. Peter wanted some vengeance of his own.

**oOoOoOoOo**

**To Be Continued in Ch 15**


	15. Chapter 15

1

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Damn, can't we ever be free of that bastard? _A thousand things rushed through Peter's mind with Gordy's revelation, leaving him in total disbelief, but the one that kept echoing in his heart and head was the realization that Tan was the poltergeist.

His father sounded very weak when he said, "I will prepare myself to talk to Marty."

Peter put a hand to his father's arm and shook his head. "No, Pop, it's too dangerous to try it now! This is Tan we're talking about here! He wants you dead!"

"Tan destroyed his own life by pursuing my death. What I do or not do will not deter him," Caine said as he frowned, but didn't pull away. "Peter, I must try."

Peter glanced to Paul for support and cursed when Paul silently agreeing with his father. "Damn it! We've got to get rid of Tan before we can even try to help Marty!"

Caine just shook his head, making Peter slam a fist against the wall. Finally, he said, "Somebody here has to listen to reason!"

Using the wall to help him stand, he forced himself up, but then stopped when his head started spinning. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he cursed again. The others were also standing by then, as if they were preparing to keep him from doing something stupid. Stupid...the very thought made him grunt aloud. He was trying to keep his father from doing something stupid and everyone was looking at him like he was the crazy one.

Phoebe stepped before him with tears in her eyes. "Peter, I know how much you love your father, but there's more than one life involved here. If there's a chance he can save Marty before Tan can hurt him any more, then we have to go for it!"

Peter's breath caught in his chest. By looking through his haze of fear for his father, he found her fears for Marty, something so strong it was almost tangible. He knew what she was feeling, just as she knew what was going through his own heart. It seemed to Peter that they were simply exchanging one life for another, and he was just selfish enough to resent it. He sighed. Once again, his love for his father had clouded his thinking.

"Ah, geez, Phoebe," he said, taking her into his arms, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking of you or Marty."

She kept her face pressed against his shoulder and said, "Listen to Gordy. Marty might be the key to help us with Tan."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. _Yeah, and Tan might kill Pop before he even has a chance to help Marty. _

He felt a hand on his shoulder and Peter knew instinctively that it was his father. "Peter, poltergeist activity usually involves a person in poor mental health or physical health. They can exhibit a variety of emotional states such as anxiety, hysteria, anger, obsessions, or phobias."

Denial spoke for Peter when he snapped, "There isn't anyone here like that."

His father's voice was low and deliberate as he said, "Yes, there is."

Peter saw his father staring at Marty and he swallowed hard. "Marty? You've got to be kidding," he replied, hearing the conviction seep away from his words by the time he was done.

"No, I am not."

Paul spoke up. "Peter, we've all been wondering why Marty and Phoebe haven't been harmed during all of this. If it is Marty, then that all makes perfect sense."

Peter bristled at the thought. "Not to me, damn it!"

"Or me!" JD chimed in. "Marty would never allow something like this to happen!"

Phoebe cleared her throat. "When you guys kept saying Marty could be the poltergeist, I refused to believe it, because in my heart I knew Marty was still in there somewhere, alive but unable to communicate. Now, I understand, Marty isn't the poltergeist, but he's the one fueling the poltergeist's power-"

Phoebe stopped abruptly and gasped in surprise. Caine reached up and touched the wall behind him. Tiny rivulets of water trickled down the wall across its entire length. His hand skimmed across its surface again and when he pulled away, his fingers were wet with moisture.

"Can you not feel his pain?" he asked quietly. He held his wet fingers out for the others to see. "It is Marty. This is a reflection of Marty's pain. He might not be able to talk to us, but his heart is trying to tell us something."

Peter opened his mouth and closed it again before slumping against the wall again. Paul moved to take his arm for support, but Peter waved him back. He wasn't feeling weak again, he just needed something sturdy like the wall to keep him grounded. The world around him had gone crazy and he was beginning to agree with it.

Caine put a hand to Peter's shoulder. "There is hope. Once the emotional tension of the affected person is relieved, the poltergeist activity usually stops."

Phoebe turned away abruptly. "I didn't hear you, Gordy. Please say that again," she said.

She met Peter's gaze before she looked to Caine. "Gordy thinks if we don't move fast, Marty might be tainted by Tan forever. He says Marty could...he could actually become a poltergeist himself one day."

The temperature of the room had just plummeted. Tan was back and judging by the whirlwind whisking right into gale force winds, he wasn't in the best of moods.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Caine closed his eyes rather than look around for Tan as Tan's hatred washed over him in waves. When he opened them, he turned in the direction of the dark emotions and saw a dark form hovering in one corner.

"Tan," he whispered.

The form coalesced into something closer to a human form, but the lines of his body were vague and shifting. _"So you have discovered who I am. Good, it will be better this way."_

Tan drifted across the room, and stopped short of the others. _"I worked hard to find a way that would hurt you the most and I found it once again in your son. His pain is your pain, magnified many times over."_

Caine remained silent, letting Tan have his say, hoping beyond hope that he'd say something that would give Caine an edge to use against him.

_"Do you know what happens to a man's soul when he cannot move on to the next life?"_

Tan moved closer to Caine. Caine felt Peter put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, but he ignored it, taking a limping step out to meet Tan.

_"Do you, Kwai Chang?"_

Caine looked at the flowing spirit before answering. "Yes."

_"Oh, that's right. You know because you told me I would not be allowed to move on after you killed me."_

Caine shook his head once. "No, I did not kill you. You fell on your own blade."

The shifting of Tan's nearly human form increased. _"You point fingers easily. Do you accept blame as well?"_

"I accept what part is mine, just as Peter does. You are the one who must point fingers at others rather than take responsibility for your own actions."

Tan shortened the distance between them with slow, exacting measures._ "This discussion is pointless. Perhaps I do not have your full attention."_

With the wave of an arm, Peter flew across the room, stopping just short of the far wall. Peter hung from the ceiling, writhing in pain for a moment, grinding his teeth in a low groan as the position strained injured ribs.

Caine stepped forward and raised a hand before him. "Stop! I will listen!"

Tan's malicious chuckle echoed around the living room. _"I thought you needed to be more focused on our conversation in order for it to have meaning."_

Peter looked to Caine and Caine shook his head, making Peter nod reluctantly. Peter would stay quiet, or as quiet as Peter ever could.

_"You were always an obedient child, Peter,"_ Tan said quietly, then laughed again. _"Kwai Chang, I could have killed you long ago if that had been my plan. I could have killed you and there would have been nothing you could have done to have stopped me, but where would be the fun in that?"_

Caine had seen Tan like this before, gloating when he thought he had the advantage. And Tan's ego was an advantage Caine hoped he could use against his old foe. Tan continued talking, telling everyone how perfectly executed his plan had gone, but Caine wasn't listening. Instead, he watched Peter, because while Tan was speaking, a change had occur in his son.

Peter's eyes widened, and then he smiled so slightly Caine might have missed it if he hadn't been looking directly at him. Peter mouthed one word, "Gordy".

A quick glance to Phoebe confirmed what Peter had said. Gordy must have returned without Tan noticing. There was no way to communicate directly with Gordy, so Caine only had one avenue left. Stepping forward, Caine altered his demeanor, hardening it for Tan's benefit and spoke in a condescending tone. "You always were insufferable, Master Dao, thinking you were superior to everyone around you."

Apparently, Caine's comment caught Tan by surprise. He stopped and his swirling form began to spin even faster as he moved ominously close to Caine._ "What did you say?" _

Tan released Peter, letting him drop to the ground without anything to cushion his fall. There was no masking Peter's groans this time. Caine felt a rush of concern for his son, but he didn't have time to deal with it. He had to focus everything on Tan.

The others moved in the periphery of Caine's sight, but he ignored them and continued his taunts. "Your conceit was only outweighed by your stupidity. You should have heard me laugh when I saw you had fallen on your own blade."

Things started flying around the room with startling speed, but Caine proceeded. He had no other choice. "You have always been a source of ridicule, Tan. Only your arrogance has kept you from seeing it for yourself."

Caine wasn't surprised when he was knocked from his feet. He hit the floor hard and slid a distance through the debris before he stopped. He knew he had to keep moving, so he struggled to rise up on his elbows. His head was spinning with dizziness and the pain from his knee nearly blinded him to everything else. He only needed a few more moments. Tan's anger was a formidable and dangerous thing.

Caine was surprised to see a coatrack with its crown broken off, moving toward him with frightening speed, its ragged top now a deadly spear. He rolled to one side, but knew instinctively there was no way he could avoid the coatrack before it tore through his body. He braced himself for the impact when Phoebe dove toward him. She shielded his body right before the rack hit, but something deflected it just enough so that neither of them were injured. Caine sank to the ground, unconscious, as Phoebe spun to face Tan.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	16. Chapter 16

1

**Chapter Sixteen**

Peter tried to get to his feet, but his body clearly had other plans. He took in ragged gasps of air, and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. When his vision finally cleared, he stared in horror as the coat rack sped towards his father and Phoebe. A large sigh of relief escaped from Peter when, at the last moment, it veered to one side and broke against the wall, sparing both of the certain death.

Peter stared in grateful disbelief, then Gordy's voice filled his thoughts. "That was close, Peter. We have to take the heat off your father before Tan can attack him again. Phoebe's a strong lady, but she's never faced anything like Tan before. Come on, Peter, get moving. We don't have much time here."

Peter blinked, and then rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead, desperately fighting against his body's insistence to shut down. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get Tan's attention. Get him riled up like your father just did. Your dad almost had him when he went down, but you've got to keep it up. No, you've got to do more than that. You've got to send him over to the other side. The other spirits say they will try to protect you as much as possible."

Peter nodded, and got to his feet, but then he had to grab the wall for support when his horizon turned upside down. He pressed a fist against the stabbing pain in his ribs and staggered forward. After a moment, he straightened, still holding onto the wall when he saw Phoebe get to her feet to face Tan. "Ah, crap..."

"You can't hurt me, Tan!" Phoebe said proudly and she moved beside Marty.

JD knelt beside Caine, placing a finger against his carotid before standing to join Paul as they took up flanking positions beside Phoebe and Caine. Paul caught Peter's gaze and shook his head when Peter started forward.

_"Don't be so sure of yourself, woman," _Tan replied and he moved toward Phoebe and Marty.

Peter couldn't stand the thought of Tan hurting anyone else and said, "Hey, Tan, I hate to interrupt, but I'm pretty upset about how you just left me hanging there, and then you just dropped me like a rock! Not very nice of you, I've got feelings after all..."

Tan stopped advancing on Phoebe when he saw it was now Peter shouting taunts. _"I see, you wish to divert the attention away from your father and your friends. How touching, but it won't work. I've decided I still need you alive for a little longer. After all, Kwai Chang must be awake for your death,_ _and I am afraid he's unconscious at the moment."_

Things started flying through the air again, but this time, it cut a path separating him and the others, keeping the group away from Peter while he spoke. Peter bit his lip and took a limping step forward. "Forget about my father. You and I have more serious matters to discuss, like how you tried to brainwash me into playing your pet hamster. The only thing missing was the exercise wheel I still can't believe you almost got away with it. Now I've got to save face and kick your ghostly butt or I'm kibble bit around here..."

Peter swallowed, gauging Tan's reactions by the speed of his windstorm. He glanced around, hoping Gordy would help him, but it seemed like he was nowhere to be found. A paperweight hit Peter's wounded arm hard enough to make him gasp for air.

_"What, Peter? Your protective spirits aren't worth much to you now, are they?"_

Tan's form circled around Peter as he stood in the middle of the room, and then he came closer, whispering, _"You can't blame them, they are dealing with a spirit who has taken great pains to become a unimaginable force. What's more, each day that passes I become stronger. I can only imagine what glorious powers I will wield in the months to come."_

Peter hardened his gaze, his sarcastic joking gone the moment Tan spoke of future hauntings. The thought clarified things for Peter in an instant. More people were going to suffer because of Tan's madness. That menace from hell had to be stopped and Peter was determined to pull it off.

Peter licked his lips and said, "Power is an illusion that few can fully grasp. Most try so hard to get it that they lose sight of who and what they are, kind of like you. Then again, you really are an illusion. An illusion that's about to-"

Peter was struck in the back with one of the dining room chairs as it flew through the room. He dropped to his knees and his vision almost gone when he heard Tan say. _"I'm sorry, Peter, was that another one of my illusions that just struck you down?"_

Peter swallowed and knew he'd pushed Tan hard, but it wasn't nearly hard enough. "You can attack me, even kill me, but you will be stopped, Tan. One way or another, you will be stopped!"

Tan's laughter made him glance at the others as they crouched together, attempting to get through Tan's flying arsenal, despite the danger. "Maybe your old friend, Gordy, will save you."

Peter glanced to Gordy. With Tan's comment, Gordy stepped out of the shadows. Peter bit his lip, he should have known Tan could see Gordy if Gordy could see Tan. Now, Gordy was at risk, too. Tan's attention did little to lessen Gordy's resolve. Gordy neared Peter, dropping down to one knee as he whispered, "Peter, I'm going to try something. I don't know if it will work or not, but here goes..."

Tan's form rushed up in front of Peter and Gordy, poised to strike another blow, when his demeanor shifted from victor to victim in an instant. He spun around, searching the room. _"What? No!"_

Peter couldn't believe his eyes when Tan disappeared in the next moment, thinking he must have missed something important. Tan had to be lurking around, but in an invisible form. Then Gordy was back in his thoughts again.

"What did you do to him, Gordy?" Peter asked breathlessly as he sank down from his knees to rest on the floor.

"I sent him to the other side," Gordy said it simply enough, but Peter detected pride in Gordy's tone, along with a measure of lingering surprise.

"You...what? You sent Tan to the other side? Didn't know you...could do...something like that..."

"Yeah, well, I guess Tan isn't the only one who can learn some useful tricks over here."

Peter's eyes drifted closed even as he heard the others rushing to his side. "Good job, Gordy..." he whispered.

"Hang on, Peter. It's not over yet. You've got to stay with us."

"Wish I could..."

Peter sighed and fell unconscious.

"Oh no, you don't, Pete. I still need your help, but maybe there's a way I can get it..." Gordy said, looking in Caine's direction.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Caine was vaguely aware of Gordy's voice in his thoughts as he returned to consciousness.

"Come on, Caine, you left yourself wide open for Tan's attack. I know you did it because you were trying to drive him to the other side. Well, he's there now, with a little help from yours truly. We've got our chance to reach Marty now. We can't blow it when we're so close!"

Kwai Chang put a hand to his head. "Yes, I agree," Caine answered, "but a softer tone would be much appreciated."

"Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to yell. Can you reach Marty?"

"I shall try. Please remain silent for a moment."

Caine started to open his eyes to check on Peter, but stopped himself. If Tan was gone, then they didn't have any time to waste.

"Caine, you okay?" Gordy asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes, Gordy, I am ready, but I will need your assistance."

"Name it."

"Focus on Marty. You know him best, help me to find his thoughts."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Caine. Okay, I'm thinking of him now-" Gordy stopped short.

"What is it?" Caine asked, worried that there was some new development.

"We need Peter with us," Gordy said quietly.

The preparation Caine had just done vanished with Gordy's unexpected comment.

"Explain."

"I've been getting help from the some of the protective spirits here. They've showed me how to do all kinds of things I never thought I'd be able to do. I trust them. Now they are telling me that the two of us might not be enough to reach Marty. They say we need a boost from someone else that's close to Marty. They say we need Peter."

Caine was stunned into momentary silence. When he spoke next, he tried to keep his fear for Peter from affecting his judgment, but knew he wasn't entirely successful. "If we need someone close to Marty, would Phoebe not be a better choice?"

"Phoebe's never been exposed to the kind of metaphysical stuff that Peter has seen. These people say that Peter's our best choice, even hurt like he is."

When Caine went silent this time, it wasn't because of shock, it was from worry. Peter had already been subjected to so much. Caine's fatherly interests almost overrode everything else until Gordy added, "Plus if Tan attacks while we are trying to reach Marty, then Paul and the others will need Phoebe's help."

Caine took a deep breath. Finally, he said, "I do not know if I am strong enough to link your thoughts with Marty's, let alone Peter's."

"They say the old man can help you...the Ancient or whatever you call him."

It seemed Gordy had an answer for everything, everything except how to spare Peter from further danger. He sighed. "Very well, but we must hurry."

"Go ahead. Talk to Peter. Get him on our team," Gordy encouraged softly.

"Peter?" Caine concentrated, reaching out for Peter's essence.

There was a pause, and then Peter sounded confused as he asked, "Pop? Are you okay? Did Tan hurt you?"

Kwai Chang's heart felt a squeeze. Even with his injuries, Peter's first thoughts were for him. "No, Peter, I am fine. Gordy is with me."

"Hi, buddy," Gordy said.

"What? How is this possible?" Peter asked, "How can I hear both of you together like this?"

"It is about to get more confusing, Peter," Caine began. "The three of us must reach Marty's consciousness and make contact with him before Tan returns. I fear we have very little time remaining."

Peter didn't hesitate. "Then let's do it."

Caine smiled with Peter's enthusiasm. "I need for the two of you to think of your warmest thoughts of Marty. Let those memories wash over you and carry you to a place of peace and joy."

After a moment, he asked, "Can you see him firmly in your mind's eye?"

The two didn't answer, but Caine felt their reply. He was getting a vivid stream of images of Gordy and Marty when the twins were kids, then high school, college and finally the police academy. That was where Peter's memories started in. Gordy and Peter's memories wove together, making a more detailed tapestry of Marty's life than either one of them alone could do.

Caine now saw the wisdom in bringing Peter along. It would be worth the strain on Peter if they succeeded. A route was being built directly to Marty's consciousness. From there, it was up to Gordy and Peter's love for Marty to break the bonds Tan had used to ensnare Marty.

"Gordy?"

"Yes."

"Call your brother's name."

There was a slight hesitation before Gordy said, "Marty?"

After a long moment, Gordy cursed. "Caine, it isn't working. Marty isn't answering."

When Caine had sought to reach Peter, he had both visual and audio contact. With Marty, he couldn't manage both, so they were relying on sound alone for communication.

Peter's voice filled the silence. "Marty? It's Peter."

"Go away." It was a voice that sounded very much like Gordy, but it held a bitter edge. Caine knew they had found Marty, but something wasn't quite right.

Gordy stammered for a moment. "God, Marty? Is that really you?"

When there wasn't a response, Gordy rushed ahead anyway. "Geez, after all this time, after all the waiting, I can't believe I've finally found you again. This is awesome!"

Caine felt Gordy's relief, but he also sensed Marty's hardened resolve. He would have warned Gordy if he had more energy, but as it was, his abilities were being taxed to the max. Grimly, he realized he hadn't considered the possibility that Marty wouldn't want to talk, something he should have thought of before he opened their connection.

Marty's silence grew to an awkward level.

"Marty?" Gordy tried again, though some of his initial enthusiasm was gone as he asked, "Marty, please talk to me."

"You weren't invited to come here. Go back to the others."

"Listen, Marty, I know you've been through hell, but please don't shut us out now. We've come to help you."

"No."

"No what? No, you don't want us to help you be free of Tan? No, you aren't glad to hear your brother's voice after five long years? What the hell do you mean by no? I don't get it."

"There's nothing to get. Just go away."

Caine couldn't ignore the similarities in Gordy's conversation with Marty and the one he'd had with Peter not long before. Peter must have sensed it too, because he spoke up. "Marty, I was under Tan's influence for a little while, so I know how he can screw with your mind. I also know the things he can make you believe that just aren't true. You've got to hold on. We can get you through this, but we have to work together."

Marty's silence continued and it seemed to wear hard on both Peter and Gordy. Gordy pleaded, "Marty? We're trying to help you, but you've got to help us. You've got to help us understand what's going on."

"Help...you? Shit, I haven't had any help from you in five years, Gordy. What makes you think I want it now?"

"Damn it, Marty, get over it already! We all know what you've been through. We're sorry for it and would change it if we could, but it's just impossible, so it's time to let it go and move on."

Gordy's frustration touched Caine's heart, mostly because he'd been right where Gordy was now when he'd begged for Peter's cooperation earlier. Gordy's tone softened. "Geez, Marty, I died. I've been trying to find you ever since then."

"Yeah, I know, you died and I'm still alive. Big fucking deal. Well, you found me, so mission accomplished. Now go."

A hardness came into Gordy's voice. "You're part of this shit, aren't you?"

There was no response. Peter spoke up next, changing tactics. "Marty, why are you feeding Tan with your anger? Don't you know you're doing exactly what he wants?"

"I can't help what I feel, Peter."

Gordy nearly growled with irritation. "Move off the damned pity pot, Marty!"

Marty didn't respond at first, then he said, "I don't want to move off. I want the life I had. It was perfect. I want it to be perfect again."

At least, Marty was talking. At least, they were making some progress.

"Come on, Marty, be realistic here. How can it possibly ever be like it was back then?"

"You don't understand, Gordy. How can you understand? You haven't been locked inside this wretched body for years, unable to respond to the outside world, trapped in here to watch the rest of the world pass me by. Don't you dare judge me!"

When Gordy paused, Peter spoke up. "But, Marty, you're trying to hold onto a life that just isn't there for you any longer."

"I might not have that life anymore, but the memories are all that I have!"

Peter's voice softened. "But it's not something you have, Marty. It's something you had, as in the past tense. It's time for you to accept that."

Gordy picked up the thread and continued. "You've fought long and hard to stay alive, bro. Tan's just screwed with your head. You can get past this."

"I can't do what you want, Gordy. I just can't. Don't ask me again."

Caine knew one of them had to make Marty understand that people would die unless he could let go of the turmoil in his heart. He just didn't know if they had enough time to do it before it all went to hell.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	17. Chapter 17

1

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Phoebe, talk to me," Paul said as he squeezed her shoulder.

The wind storm had ended a minute before, but all of them seemed to be lost in a daze. The terrible image of Peter standing up to Tan alone repeated in his mind's eye, defying Tan in a way only Peter could do. Now, Paul had to wonder if Peter's defiance would cost him his life.

Mike and Ray were still unconscious, and now Peter and Caine were, too. Phoebe was on the floor next to Peter while Lo Si checked on him. Paul grunted as he knelt beside her, placing a hand on Peter's arm. He glanced up at her and said, "That was some stunt you pulled to save Caine. How did you know you wouldn't get hurt?"

"I didn't...not for sure." Her brown eyes bore into Paul's and her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "Marty hadn't let Tan hurt me this far, so I had to trust that he would continue to keep me safe. If I can use that to help the others, I'm going to do it."

Paul nodded. "Just be careful. Tan might not be so discerning next time."

He looked at Marty for a moment, who was still without injury after everything that had gone on. "What happened? I mean, what happened that the rest of us couldn't see?"

Phoebe wrung her hands together, trying to fight her tears. "All I know is that Gordy was talking to Peter, then Caine, and then they just disappeared."

Paul rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned closer. "Disappeared? But Peter and Caine are still here."

Phoebe shook her head. "No, not their bodies, I mean their consciousness disappeared. It feels like before...like when Caine went after Peter."

"So that means Caine and Gordy are trying to reach Marty right now?"

She nodded, though her expression was anything but in agreement. "Yes, and for some reason, they took Peter along with them."

"But why Peter? He's in no shape to be extending himself further."

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders. Paul turned back to Lo Si as the old man took a small pouch from Caine's satchel, and placed some loose leaves under Peter's tongue.

Paul waited until Lo Si looked up at him. "How is he?"

Lo Si frowned. "His life signs are weak."

JD turned from his position beside Ray and Mike, clenching a fist. "Tan tossed him around like he was some damned rag doll. I mean, he was already hurt...now, he's-"

Lo Si put up a hand to silence him. "Although Peter's injuries are serious, they are not life-threatening. I shall watch over him and your friends. You are free to assist the Captain."

JD's fist relaxed and came to rest on Peter's arm. Looking at Lo Si again, he said, "Peter's told me a lot about the things you and his daddy can do, about the different way you go about doctoring a person's ailments. Sounds like some mighty powerful mojo to me. If I can help at all..."

Lo Si smiled. "You already have. I have heard it said when one helps another, both are stronger. You do Peter great honor with your courage."

"I wish I could do more than that. Just keep him alive," he said.

JD stood, but didn't move away, lingering there as if waiting to be called into action. Lo Si bowed his head slightly before he closed his eyes and put a hand over Peter's forehead.

Paul knew what the old man was doing and he ached to help Peter's physical condition in some way, but Paul's gifts weren't magical. He had spent most of his life protecting people in one form or another, either as a soldier or a cop. Tan was just another criminal who needed to be busted. Paul could think clearly in those terms, but first he needed more information.

"Phoebe, are those protective spirits still with us?"

She glanced around. "Yes, they are."

"Talk to them for me. See if they know anything that might help us now. Concentrate on how we might get rid of Tan for good."

She closed her eyes, as if Paul was asking for the impossible. Paul knew he was, but it didn't stop him from asking. She sighed and stepped away, speaking to beings Paul could only imagine were present. "I need your strength, Grandmother. I need your love and your wisdom. Show me how to do what needs to be done," she said in a low voice and another sigh slipped out.

Paul allowed himself a sigh of his own as he wondered what JD and he could do to help them escape. He felt for Phoebe. Looking for the impossible took a lot out of a person.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Caine was disturbed by Marty's attitude. He'd been sure that Marty was a prisoner to Tan's poltergeist activities. There was the living room wall wet with water, as if they were Marty's tears flowing down its length, but if Marty had been distraught enough to make water appear on a wall, why was he fighting their help now? It just didn't make sense. But then, this was the first communication Marty had known, except for Tan, in five years.

Gordy spoke, "Marty, let go of Tan. Once you're free of him, I know you'll see things in a different light."

"You're blowing this all out of proportion, Gordy. You make it sound like I planned for all of this to happen, but I didn't. None of this is my fault. All I did was agree with Tan about how life had given both of us the shaft. He understood perfectly. We had lots of conversations like that. He made me see how alone I truly was, but I didn't tell him to do anything. I didn't. When I found out what he'd been up to, I tried to stop him. There wasn't anything I could do except watch, just like I've spent the last five years of my life watching everyone else do whatever the hell they wanted to do."

Marty had opened up a bit and Gordy sounded encouraged when he spoke next. "It's okay, Marty. It's in the past. We have to look ahead, to important matters that just can't wait, like what we need to do to get you rid of that freeloader, Tan."

When Marty didn't respond right away, Peter pressed the issue. "Marty, we don't have much time before Tan comes back. You have to reject him. If you don't, your friends are going to suffer even more, and some are probably going to die. Is that what you want?"

Marty's reaction was immediate. "Hell, no, I don't want any of that! What do you think I am? Some kind of monster? I can't believe what I'm hearing!"

Gordy's voice was soft. "No, Marty, you aren't a monster. Far from it, big brother. You are a hero, just like you've been all your life, but your thinking's been clouded with all that you've been through. I know you won't let this continue."

A shift happened without warning. Marty's voice dripped with vehemence. "You think you know me? Well, maybe you did once, but not anymore. You know what? I'm thinking much better now than I have for a long time. In fact, I'm thinking I'm done wasting my time talking to you."

Gordy sounded worried as he whispered, "We need your help, Marty. We need you. Just think about it. We love you, man."

Marty didn't respond with words, instead their communication with him ended abruptly. Marty's bitterness and rage overrode almost everything as he left them alone. Little wonder why Tan was using those powerful negative emotions as fuel to exact his revenge against the Caine men.

"Pop, what just happened?"

"Marty closed the door of communication with us."

"Does that mean we failed?"

Gordy sounded angry and frustrated. "He's not talking to us any more, so I guess that says it all, Pete."

"Damn it!" Peter growled in response.

Caine said, "No, it does not. This is not over yet."

Peter's voice was hesitant when he asked, "What is it that you aren't telling us?"

Kwai Chang was proud of his son's intuitive ways. "Tan's power will remain even after Marty's rage ceases to fuel him," he said softly.

Peter sounded puzzled. "What do you mean? I thought Tan couldn't do anything once Marty was free of him."

"Not quite," Gordy said slowly. "We'll still have Tan to deal with, and there's still a hell of a lot of power here for him to use. I think your father called it unspent energy. There's just too much of it flowing around us. Tan will use it to kick our collective butts."

"What can we do to stop him?"

"We need to make him use up that energy," Gordy said carefully.

Peter groaned. "Ah, hell, Gordy, I don't think I'm going to like what you have in mind..."

"I don't like it either, Peter, but we don't have any choice."

"We will each do what we must when the time arises," Caine said softly.

"You know what this means, don't you? We can't leave now. We have to try to reach Marty again," Peter said with firm determination. "We need him on our side if we are to win this fight."

Gordy said, "Peter, I don't know if your dad is up to another try."

There was no mistaking the seriousness in Peter's tone as he said, "We have no choice. Tan's backed us into a corner and we've got to come out swinging."

There was pride in Caine's voice as he said, "Agreed, there is no other choice."

**oOoOoOoOo**

"Marty, why are you here?" Tan asked as he found Marty standing in an imaginary version of Marty's rose garden, one of many places Tan had created just for him. A place to escape, a place where Marty still had his legs, where he was still able to move, and where he was still a man.

"Nothing, just thinking."

"About what?"

Marty slowly sniffed at an American Beauty rose, brushing its velvety dark red petals with a finger. "I'm wondering if we are doing the right thing here."

Tan stepped closer to Marty. "There's no doubt about it, Marty. We must do what we have to. There's no quarter for the weak and for those who have taken advantage of you. We have to be strong."

Marty let go of the rose and faced Tan. "I don't like what's happening to them. It isn't right."

Tan sneered. "Isn't right? You say that like you still care about them. Need I remind you they've long since forgotten all about you."

Marty met Tan's gaze and whispered, "They say they want to save me."

Tan must have heard the uncertainty in Marty's voice, because he said, "They say? Have you spoken to them?"

Marty moved to cover his slip. "I had no choice-"

Tan's response was vehement. "No, I forbid you talking to them! I forbid it! They will undercut our plans using emotion and memories of long ago to cloud your thinking. You must remain strong!"

Marty held Tan's gaze for a long moment, and then glanced away. "Maybe you're right. I'm-I'm just not as sure about their intentions as I was yesterday. Can't we just let them go? Why do you have to hurt them like you have?"

Tan's voice softened. "Of course, you're not sure. These people used to be your friends and family...but note the word 'used' to be. You are no longer of any importance to them, so put them out of your thoughts. I'll take care of them. Instead, why don't you think of your parents' cabin in the mountains? You can visit there or any of the other places I have made for your mind."

Marty swallowed and then nodded. "Maybe I will. You don't know how much it means for me to be able to move around again, even if it's just in my mind. For so long, I haven't been able to...but now, because of you, I can. I'm in your debt."

"It's the least I can do for you, Marty, my friend. Go and relax. I'll take care of everything."

Marty started to walk away, but a part of him wanted to stay and talk about the others some more. In the end, it seemed like a very small part of him, he decided, as he started walking again.

What a miracle it was, just to walk, even if it was just an illusion. Tan had done so much for him since they'd met. That fact eased his doubts as he journeyed to his parents' cabin. _Tan will make them go away, and then I can enjoy my freedom again without guilt._

**oOoOoOoOo**


	18. Chapter 18

1**Chapter Eighteen**

Phoebe was sitting beside Peter when hurricane force winds whipped around the room, making everyone cower down in self protection. Then Tan appeared, hovering ominously in the air before them.

_"What did you think you could accomplish by talking with Marty? Do you think you could talk him away from my control? He is mine!"_

Phoebe held her breath as Paul stepped forward. She stood and JD drew closer to her, subtly putting himself between her and Tan. There was only the four of them still conscious, but Lo Si was out of the picture because he'd gone into a deep trance to help Caine and Peter reach Marty, so Tan focused his rage on the three of them.

"What do you mean?" Paul asked.

Phoebe glanced to the unconscious Caine men and wondered if they were really okay, or how successful they'd been in reaching Marty, but with Tan's statement, it didn't bode well.

_"You know exactly what I mean! Someone has been trying to get around my barriers to Marty, probably Kwai Chang and his whelp. Fools! You cannot change the inevitable! All of you will die before the night is out!"_

Paul squared his shoulders. "You're an idiot, Tan, if you think we will just wait around here for you to destroy us!"

Before Phoebe realized what had happened, Paul was flying through the air. His collision with the wall a second later knocked him out. Phoebe and JD turned to face Tan. JD opened his mouth to speak, but she put a hand to his arm to silence him. He looked at her, but all she could do was shake her head and step forward. Her voice trembled, "You can't have Marty!"

_"Woman, you have no say in the matter. I will take what I want, I will do what I want, and I will kill when I want! Marty will feed my strength for years to come!"_

Phoebe took another step forward. JD reached out to grab her arm to stop her, but she just shook him off. "Marty won't allow you to kill any of us! I know he won't!"

_"You presume to think you know him now? You are a fool. All of you are fools."_

She took another step forward and found herself tumbling back to the wall, along with JD. Her hand brushed against the water still trickling down the wall. She looked down at her wet fingers and held them up for Tan to see. "This is Marty's grief. It's a sign of his true emotions. What do you think he'll do when he finds out what you are doing?"

_"Do? He already knows and doesn't care to stop it. This life is of no concern to him any longer."_

"Says you! I know Marty's heart. He would never-"

_"I tire of this inane conversation. Accept your fate and prepare to die."_

He left without another word. Phoebe and JD exchanged worried glances before kneeling down to check on Paul. Phoebe could hardly see the man as she blinked away her tears. Marty had to care about what was happening to them. If he didn't, he was no longer the man she'd fallen in love with. The thought of his possible apathy made her own tears start fall.

She felt a hand squeezing her arm. "Don't let him get to you."

She looked to the hand and her gaze trailed upward to stare into JD's blue eyes and she whispered, "What if he's right? What if Peter, Gordy, and Caine can't get through to Marty?"

He knelt down to meet her gaze eye to eye. "Have you ever known Peter or Gordy to give up?"

Phoebe shook her head. JD smiled at her. "Then don't you start giving up on them now."

"Do you really think Peter and his father can pull this off in time?"

JD's eyes darted away from her, unwittingly revealing his own doubts.

A weak voice from below said, "If there's a snowball's chance in hell that they can do it, Peter and Caine will find it. We have to stay strong and believe."

Paul groaned, clutching his arm closer to him, and hissed, "Dammit, not twice in one night."

"Your shoulder again?" JD asked as he knelt.

Paul nodded. "Give me a hand, we've got to put it back in place before I pass out again."

JD and Phoebe helped him to stand, and then Paul explained needed to be seen. Phoebe nodded, "I saw what Caine did to put it back in place. You can do it, JD."

JD flashed her an expression that said he didn't share her belief, but did as he was asked. Soon, Paul was back on the floor, resting. "Give me a minute and I'll be ready for action," Paul muttered as his head sagged.

Phoebe glanced down at Paul, his resolve strengthen hers. She brushed Paul's hair away from his eyes. "He was right, JD. The others need our strength now. They will get through to Marty, if only because of their stubbornness. Marty won't be able to ignore them, his heart is too good for that."

JD nodded in agreement, but there was still a wisp of uncertainty in his expression. The truth of the matter was that uncertainty was also whispering in her own heart, but she refused to acknowledge it. If Marty was past the point of caring about their fate, all was lost anyway.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Peter listened as Caine spoke to Gordy and himself, his voice weary. "You both must focus everything on locating Marty. His presence is masked from me. It may be Tan has fortified the barriers separating us from Marty, or it may be that Marty has completely closed himself away from us. Whatever the reason, I am having great difficulty reaching him."

Peter forced himself to ignore the fatigue in his father's voice and pushed forward. "Keep trying, Pop. We have to reach Marty, we just have to."

Gordy had been silent, but now spoke up. "Peter, you said when you were trying to hide from your father that you went to a safe place inside your mind, right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe that's what Marty is trying to do."

It made sense. Peter tried to focus on Marty, on what he had to be feeling, and got a hint of Marty's presence, but it wasn't strong and he kept losing his hold of it. "It's possible, Gordy. Do you know where he'd go?"

"I think so. Marty loved our parents' cabin in the mountains. Whenever he was stressed, he'd drive up there to get away, walk around the woods, and think. Maybe that's where he is now."

Peter smiled. Maybe they could find Marty again. The real question was even if they found Marty, would he simply disappear on them again? Peter wasn't sure his father had enough strength for a third try. As it was, his father's chi felt like it was spread incredibly thin and that scared Peter more than Tan ever could. "Yeah, you're right. I've been up there with you guys before. It's worth a try."

His father's tone was low and slow as he said, "You must do as you did before. Recall good times with Marty, let your love and warmth build a bridge to him."

Peter did as Caine requested, but he also went beyond his father's instructions and tried to send his father some chi to strengthen him. From somewhere deep inside, Peter knew Caine just wasn't strong enough to maintain a solid link with Marty. He could only hope his meager contribution would be enough to seal the deal.

After a long moment, Peter could smell the scent of pine trees. His father couldn't provide the visual images, but they were at the right place. Marty had to be close by. Gordy called to his brother, "Marty, please, you have to listen to us. Lives depend on it."

Peter waited for a response, but none came, so he tried, "Marty, Phoebe's life depends on it. Can you turn your back on her?"

"HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!" Marty shouted in response.

Peter pressed forward. "Marty...please...you have to help for Phoebe's sake."

Gordy wasn't as understanding when he said, "Marty, stop this now! Your friend and your brother want to save you, to save Phoebe, and everyone else. You have to listen!"

"I will listen to none of this, because if you think I'd harm Phoebe, then you don't know me at all and that means I'm better off without you!"

Gordy tried again. "Peter was just trying to get your attention, Marty, that's all. You have to admit you've been giving us the cold shoulder. Now, ease up on Peter and let's talk."

"Gordy, please, I just want to be left alone. Can't you give me that?"

Peter was aware of his father's dwindling strength and knew they didn't have long to convince Marty he needed their help. He cursed his novice Shaolin abilities and once again tried to send his father some of his own strength, but then he felt something coming from far away, something familiar and knew it had to be Lo Si sustaining his father where Peter could not.

Gordy pressed forward. "Marty, everything in me is saying if I leave you alone, I'll lose you to Tan forever. That I'll lose you to Tan. That I'll lose you to his darkness. I can't let that happen."

There was a pause, and then Marty said, "I love you, Gordy, but I can't do as you ask. I can't. I'm not strong enough to fight Tan's will. I'm just not. Don't try to follow me again."

And then he was gone and they were cast back into the void of unconsciousness.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Peter gasped as he came to. Their extended excursion to reach Marty had stolen the air from his lungs and his aching ribs refused to allow any to return. He wrapped his arms around his middle and rolled to one side, struggling to breathe. He felt gentle hands trying to comfort him and it brought him closer to awareness.

As his vision clarified, he saw Phoebe and JD at his side with Paul and Lo Si beside his father. He tried to move to sit up, but his world started to go dark again. At least until he heard Phoebe call his name. She put a hand on his arm and sighed in dismay. "Peter, you scared me when you wouldn't come to..."

He placed a hand over hers. "I'm all right, Phoebe, I just look worse than I really am."

Her expression revealed her doubt as her eyes watered. "You would say that from your deathbed, Peter. You are far from all right..."

"You gave us a scare, son," Paul said, interrupting when Phoebe's voice broke.

Peter raised his head, eyeing his foster father closely. "What the hell happened to you?"

Paul grunted. "It's nothing. I made the mistake of getting in Tan's way again."

Peter cursed. "He has to be stopped."

"Tell me something I don't already know."

Peter glanced at Lo Si tending to his father, and bit his lip when he saw his father's still form. "How's Pop doing?"

Lo Si said, "He is just unconscious, reviving his strength after the attempt to reach Marty."

Phoebe brushed her fingers across Peter's forehead, pushing aside stubborn locks of hair. "Were you able to talk to Marty?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Peter glanced to her, and then had to look away. "We did, but Tan's really got Marty brainwashed. We tried to get through to him, but we couldn't make him see..."

Phoebe's hand at Peter's temple clenched into a fist and she whispered, "Marty has to understand." She took in a ragged breath. "To-to finally know he's still in there, it's a miracle. Deep down, I always knew he was, now to know for sure."

Tears fell from her closed eyes as she turned her face upward. She swallowed and looked back down at Peter. "Maybe if I talked to him. Maybe I could get through to him..."

Peter reached up and put his hand to her cheek. "We won't stop trying, Phebe."

Phoebe took Peter's hand on her cheek in hers and squeezed it tightly. "Yes, I know. Now tell me everything that Marty said."

Gordy spoke up. "Phoebe, you have to remember he's not himself. He-"

"What did he say?" she asked firmly.

Peter licked his lips. "He's doing the best he can. Tan has really done a number on him."

"Stop sugarcoating things. It must be pretty bad." She blinked away some tears and her gaze grew distant. "We've got to keep after him. This is Marty we're talking about here. My sweet love..."

Gordy became agitated. "Peter, the spirits say it's show time."

"What do we have to do?"

"When Tan gets back, we've really got to push him hard."

Peter grunted. "As if we haven't been doing that all night..."

"The only way we are going to be able to get to Marty is through Tan, and the only way through Tan is finding a weakness." He paused. "The only weakness we know of is his rage. By using that, and making him use up that residual energy, we'll have a better chance against him, especially when we turn Marty to our side, but the only way I know to do that is..."

Peter let his head drop back to the floor and closed his eyes. "Ah, crap."

Gordy went on, "Your dad is still out of it. I'm sorry, but it has to be you. I just wish it didn't have to be that way."

Phoebe looked up from Peter's side in concern. "You're crazy! Peter's been through enough, it's time for one of us to-"

"To what, Phoebe? Look around. There aren't many of us still up and moving. There isn't a lot of choice here."

"I'm here! I can push Tan's buttons just as well as anyone else! Let me have a run at him! It doesn't have to be Peter!"

JD touched her shoulder. "You already did that, darlin', and he wasn't biting. Probably because of Marty. You have a pass go card and I don't think Tan will let anything happen to you...at least not as long as Marty is around."

"Well, that's Tan's weakness! He can't or won't hurt me! We can use that against him."

"For now."

"Whatever. What I'm saying is this...if all of us taunt Tan like Peter did, I know we can get him riled enough to send him back to the other side. This time, we can choose when he leaves."

Peter was about to respond when the temperature of the room plummeted. Gale force winds struck at the same time. Lights flashed on and off in a maddening pace as rank odors filled the air. Disorienting screams deafened Peter and he knew Tan was back in a big way.

"It is time to move to the next phase of the evening's entertainment!" Tan shouted without revealing himself.

Peter blinked against the whirlwind in the room, finally squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he was leaning against the cold stone wall. The winds, lights, smells, and sounds died down quickly. His mouth dropped open at what he now saw.

They were in a place that no longer existed, except in the memories of those who had once lived there. They were back at the temple. Somehow, someway, Tan had recreated it, but there was more. Peter was lined up against a wall in chains along with Paul, Phoebe, Lo Si, JD, Mike, Ray, and his father. Those that had been unconscious were now awake...stunned, but awake. Everyone was dressed in the traditional gray gi's the students at the temple had worn. Shock reflected in every face.

Somehow, Tan had kidnapped their consciousness and brought them to this place. Peter would have whistled in awe if he'd had the spit to lick his lips, but the scene around him was enough to leave his mouth bone dry. _How the hell had Tan pulled this off..._

Before they could speak, Tan strutted to a stop at the top of the stone steps leading up to the main altar and smiled a cold, heartless smile. "I'm glad you could all make it in time for your deaths," he said as his grin grew.

He gloated at both his grand accomplishment and the look of shock on every face, and then sneered to Lo Si. "Don't even think about calling in your 'protective' spirits again for a rescue. I have barred them from this place."

The priest-turned-poltergeist addressed the others. "It is here that I shall finally have my revenge against Kwai Chang Caine. Most of you will live long enough to witness my victory, but don't worry, none of you will survive long beyond that."

Without the strong winds blowing any longer, the low lying mists began to rise, giving the place a haunted feel. The torches and candles lighting the interior weren't bright enough to reach into every corner, and there were places were the shadows seemed to swallow up the light, adding to the ominous feel of the area.

Peter swallowed as his gaze met that of his father's. They had just entered a whole new realm of danger.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	19. Chapter 19

1

**Chapter Nineteen**

"Tan, you must stop this madness. Let these people go. If you want revenge against me, do it, but release the others," Caine pleaded, knowing his words would have no effect, but he just couldn't remain silent.

Tan smiled and Caine knew someone was about to suffer. He shared a pensive look with Peter before Peter screamed in agony. Another moment passed and Caine saw why. Tan had pulled Peter away from the wall by his feet until he was completely horizontal with his hands still bound in the chains attached to the walls. Peter tried to suppress his painful sounds, but his position pulled on his broken ribs too much.

Caine closed his eyes, trying to block Peter's tortured moans and focus on a way to defeat Tan instead, but found he couldn't. Peter's anguish cut a path to his heart, and the angry shouts from the others for Tan to stop only deepened its course. Kwai Chang opened his eyes and saw Phoebe yanking hard against her chains as she yelled, "Stop it, you sorry son of a bitch!"

Tan laughed, enjoying her feistiness. "Stop? Surely you jest. Look how I can hurt all of you just by hurting Peter. Why would I want to stop that? I've changed my mind. I don't think I'm going to kill Peter right away. This is too delicious. I think I shall use Peter's pain until his body stops functioning, and then I will start on the rest of you."

"No, you won't!" Phoebe said, taking a deep breath. "You won't, because Marty won't let you!"

"This is getting monotonous..."

"MARTY!" Phoebe screamed, calling his name at the top of her voice. "MARTY!"

Tan approached until he was right in front of her and a reddish gleam came into his eyes. "Who do you thinkwill hear and help you, young lady? No one here. Not even..."

Tan snapped his fingers and Marty appeared at his side, looking stunned by his sudden appearance. "Marty, I told you this day would come and it is here. These are the people that have ignored you for years. Now, the roles are reversed, they are imprisoned and you are free. It is time to take our revenge against them. Come, be my witness."

Marty looked down at his legs, and then raised his hands to his face. "But this isn't real," he said softly.

"It's as real as anything you've known for the last five years. You are whole here and your enemies are now prisoners. What more can you ask for?"

Marty frowned and dropped his hands to his sides. "Are they real?" he asked finally, pointing toward the group in chains.

Tan smiled and put a hand to the back of Marty's neck. "As real as real can be. Now we can strike out at them just as we planned."

Marty took a step forward and gaped at his ability to walk. "Strike out at them? I'm not sure what you mean..."

Tan's expression tightened. "They have hurt you. It's time for you to hurt them."

Marty shook his head as he stared at Phoebe longingly. "I don't want to hurt them. Let them go. I was only angry at them. I was angry at the world. I don't want to hurt anyone."

Tan's friendly demeanor vanished. "No!" he shouted and swept away from Marty's side. "They must be punished! If you are not strong enough to do it yourself, then I will do it for you!"

Tan pointed a hand at Peter and made a fist. Peter groaned much louder this time. It looked as if Tan was squeezing him like he was a grape about to burst from its skin.

"No, Peter!" Marty cried out, worried for his old friend, as he put out one hand in Peter's direction. "Tan, stop this!"

Tan paused for a moment, and then shrugged, releasing Peter. Peter gasped with the release of pressure and dropped to the ground, the only thing keeping him upright now was the chains digging into his wrists. Tan looked at Marty with disgust. "You had such potential, Kensington. I was intrigued by the depth of your rage and bitterness, but now I can see I was wrong about you."

Caine called to Marty, "Remember, Marty, you have the power to stop Tan. You alone have that power. Use it now!"

Anger flashed in Marty's eyes, anger that he directed at Tan, but then he took a deep breath and looked back at Peter and Caine, lingering the longest on Phoebe. His gaze dropped down and he shook his head in defeat. "Tan is my friend, my only friend, in such a long time."

Tan smiled with Marty's comment. Caine closed his eyes at what he'd seen. Marty had refused to go against Tan earlier, and now it looked like their talk with him had proved fruitless. Marty might not have been behind the attacks in the Kensington home, but he certainly wasn't going to stop them either.

"That is correct, Marty. I am your only friend," Tan said as he ambled over to Kwai Chang.

"Watch a master at work..." Without another word, he struck out at Caine.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Marty watched as Tan made his move on Caine, and then stepped back into the shadows of the temple, his mind whirling as he tried to think of a way to beat Tan at his own game. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. The miracle of movement still stunned him, even after Tan first allowed him this freedom weeks ago.

He sagged against the wall and closed his eyes. "Gordy, I need you now, little brother, more than I've ever needed you before."

He remembered how he'd been drawn against his will to talk to Gordy, Peter, and Caine more than once. Maybe he could pull off the same kind of trick with Gordy. It was a long shot, but it had to work. Otherwise, he would be just as much a prisoner to the proceedings as the others in chains, as much of a prisoner as he'd been for the last five years.

"Come on, Gordy, we're identical twins...there has to be something in our consciousness that is shared, some way that you can hear me and come here..."

Marty's eyes popped open just a second before Gordy appeared.

"What the hell..." Gordy said, looking bewildered at what he saw around them.

"Thank God," Marty whispered as he put a hand on Gordy's shoulder.

"What's going on?"

Marty turned, so that Gordy could see Tan move over to Peter and he began to beat him with his fists.

"We've got to stop this."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I brought you here. It's the fourth down with no timeouts."

"Then we've got one chance to get ball into the end zone," Gordy said solemnly.

"And if we don't score, the game is over and we've lost. This is more important than anything we've ever tried together before. We have to get it right the first time."

Gordy glanced at the others, and then back at Marty. Marty frowned. "What is it?"

"There's something-something the other spirits were telling me about, something that might get rid of Tan for good."

"Then let's use it."

Gordy closed his eyes, hesitating.

"What is it, Gordy? If we've got something that would get rid of Tan once and for all, let's stop screwing around and use it!"

"It's not that easy. There are...risks associated with it."

"Just do it. We don't have a lot of time before Tan realizes I'm not watching his every move. Do it, Gordy, and end this nightmare."

"And if we create a worse nightmare?"

Marty stared at his brother. "What can be worse than this?"

"It's not a weapon that can be controlled. Once it comes, it can strike at anyone..."

"Gordy, what is it?"

There was a loud groan from Caine, drawing them both to Tan's actions.

Gordy nodded, but his demeanor was filled with dread. "Like you said, we need to get moving or else we'll miss our chance."

Now, Marty hesitated. There was so much he wanted to say to Gordy, but no time to do it. Instead, he sighed and said, "Can you make your way over to the others without being seen by Tan?"

Gordy smirked. "I'm a ghost, remember?"

Marty didn't react to Gordy's sense of humor. "Just don't get caught. You're the only rabbit I can pull out of my hat."

"Don't worry, I'm on it."

"And I'm on Tan. I'll keep him busy. See if you can help get the others free."

Gordy nodded and took off, slinking off into the shadows.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Peter managed to get his feet under him and tried to gather his waning strength. He looked over at Paul chained beside him, then his eyes widened when he saw Marty and Tan together in the center of the temple. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he didn't feel good about the conversation. Something moved in the shadows to his right and he was startled to see Gordy standing beside him.

Gordy put a finger to his lips and kept moving until he was beside Peter.

"Gordy! You found us!" Peter whispered.

"Not exactly. Marty found me. He wants me to let you loose while he distracts Tan."

Paul leaned forward. "Tan's using a hell of a lot of energy, keeping all of us here. How can he can continue to keep the emergency crews out of the house while doing all of this too?"

Gordy shook his head. "I don't know how he's doing it. I mean, you'd think he'd be gone to the other side already, but he's still here. If anything, he looks like he's getting stronger..."

Phoebe frowned. "He's feeding off of our negative energy, our fear, our worry, our concern for one another...he's feeding off of all of it and it seems to be making him stronger, but it's a facade. Tan is like glass that's been stretched too thin. Sooner or later, it's going to shatter and it won't take much pressure to make that happen."

"If we make him expend more energy, the emergency crews outside the house might be able to find a way in and take care of the injured. Don't forget the injuries our bodies suffered earlier are still there and this...this has to be putting on a big additional demand."

Peter nodded. "Gordy, can you get us out of these chains?"

Gordy looked at them closely. He moved closer to one of Paul's manacles and touched it at a certain point and it fell open.

"Damn, I'm good," Gordy whispered as he went to release the other one. "I'm not quite sure how I did that, but I'm mighty glad it worked."

"No, argument here. Free the rest of us and then make yourself scarce."

Once they were free, they all huddled together for a moment, and then everyone's attention was directed to Tan. Peter stepped forward, smiling. "Tan, you're pretty brave when you've got all of us shackled, how about we try a little one on one and see how well you do?"

Mike came up on Peter's left. "Wait! Why don't you lay off the kid for a while, Darth Vader! Try to take me on! You think he's the only one around here? I'm the most screwed up one of the bunch! Try me!"

Ray moved to Peter's right. "Yeah, Tan, Peter isn't your only prisoner! You've got a whole band of misfits to play with. Have us take a number and we'll line up around the block!"

JD folded his arms over his chest. "He struts around like he's some peacock when he's just a flipping woodpecker."

"How did you get free?" Tan looked dumbstruck. "No matter, it won't last long!"

It was a moment Peter wanted to savor forever, but they didn't have time for that. Marty moved closer to Tan's side and whispered, "I told you I didn't think what you were doing was right. Apparently, they agreed."

Tan grabbed Marty by the throat. "You think I won't kill you, along with the rest of them? You are wrong. When you serve no purpose, you are discarded. I will find another who can feed me with power-"

Tan stopped to stare at a dark wispy shadow coming towards them. "What is this? Stay back!" he commanded with bravado, but everyone knew he was scared, just as they felt the fear themselves.

There was no reply, and the darkness kept coming closer and closer until it stopped right in front of Marty and Tan. Gordy rushed forward. "Marty, be careful!"

With a glance to Gordy and then the dark shadow, Tan released Marty and tossed him toward the darkness as a sacrifice, but it merely flowed around Marty and continued toward Tan.

Peter stared at the inky darkness more closely, sensing a very real danger coming from it. Caine stepped forward, somehow slipping next to Tan when the attention was on the shadow. "Can you not feel its purpose, Tan? It is Death coming for you."

"But...I am already dead, Death cannot hurt me."

"There is the death of the flesh. There is also the dark death of the soul. Once that is done, there is no more existence."

Peter grunted. "For someone who considers himself a heavyweight in the spirit department, it looks like you haven't done all your homework."

Tan backed away. "No...it's not possible! It cannot be!"

The darkness leapt forward, engulfing Tan in its shadowy folds. Tan snaked out a hand to grab Marty by the arm as Marty headed for Phoebe. He was shrieking for help by then.

Marty fought to untangle himself from Tan's grasp and the others rushed to his side to help. The dark shadow started creeping up Marty's arm and looked like it were going to engulf him too when Tan suddenly let go of Marty and the darkness stole away with Tan just as quickly as it had appeared.

Gordy and Phoebe rushed to Marty's side. Everyone was silent for a long moment before Mike and Ray started shouting, "We did it! We won!"

Peter shook his head. "We didn't do jackshit...can somebody please explain what just happened?"

Gordy's wide-eyed gaze found Peter. "The other spirits hinted that something like this could happen, but said Death was an arbitrary force and could claim anyone it wanted. God, Marty, when I saw Death coming at you, all I could think of was how it almost took you before, but thankfully it took Tan instead. Damn, Tan's dark soul had to be something irresistible for something like Death to eat up."

Phoebe took Marty's face in her hands. She kissed him several times, and then pressed her forehead against his. "We did it, but how are we still here? Tan's gone."

She looked up at him, and then her gaze took in the entire temple scene. "Why is this...place still here?"

Marty brushed his fingers across her temple. "Somehow, I'm able to hold onto what Tan had constructed here, but it won't last long."

He looked to the others. "I just needed a moment to say goodbye to all of you. I won't ever be able to talk to you again and I'm just stubborn enough to want to take advantage of this miracle. I wish I was stronger, but I can't keep us here for more than a matter of minutes. You guys were pretty efficient at using up the last of the residual energy here, but I did learn a few tricks from Tan while I was playing his puppet."

He looked at Mike, Ray, JD, and Paul. "You guys are the best. I wish I could talk to you more, but I have some things I need to say to Peter and Phoebe and I'm not sure how much time I have left."

The guys nodded. "Love you, man," Ray whispered, his chin trembling.

"You're the best as always," Mike echoed.

JD raised his hand and made a fist. "We'll never forget you."

Paul nodded to Marty while Caine and Lo Si bowed deeply.

"You guys will never know how much you mean to me. Thank you for everything you did here to save the day. I can never repay you."

Marty nodded once, and then all six men disappeared from sight. Peter turned to face Marty and the first words out of his mouth was, "Dammit, if I'd been able to save you from the blast, none of this would have ever happened."

Marty shook his head and hugged Phoebe even closer to him. "Peter, you've carried guilt that wasn't yours to carry for far too long...and I've been doing the opposite. I blamed the rest of the world when it wasn't anyone's fault. You made me see that, Peter. Not at first, not for a very long time, but now I want you to do what I just did. Accept the past for what it is, the past. Move forward, never back."

Marty slumped slightly, enough for Phoebe to raise her head and looked at him closely. "You look tired, Marty," she said quietly, brushing her fingers across his cheek.

Marty shook his head. "That doesn't matter. What matters is I've got you in my arms and I've been surrounded by the heroes I love like a family."

He looked to Peter again and sighed. "Let go of the accident, Peter." He thought for a moment, and then said, "There's a quote from Melville that says, _The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of Hell, or a hell of Heaven." _

Marty went silent for a moment. "Peter?"

"Yeah, Marty?"

"You know I made my existence a living hell, but I'm done with that. I don't want you to carry on the tradition."

Marty looked down and touched Phoebe's cheek as if his fingers hungered for the contact of his flesh against Phoebe's. "God, I can't believe I'm holding you again." He kissed her slowly. "If I had it all to do over again, Phebe, I'd have loved you more."

Phoebe's chin trembled as she spoke with a tear running down her cheek, "Marty, honey, I don't think that's possible. I felt your love in your every glance, touch, word, and breath. This-this is a miracle, one I prayed for, but never dreamt was possible."

Marty's voice grew husky. "You have been my rock, baby. I never would have made it this long without you. You are the most precious gift I've had in my life and I'd go through everything all over again, just to have it one more time. I love you."

Marty reached out to brush away Phoebe's errant tear with his thumb, but more tears fell before he was done. He moved closer to her and kissed her tears, moving up from her chin until his lips rested at her temple. "Remember, you are my one, my only love."

"And you are mine," she said with eyes still too full of tears to actually see him.

"What I have to say next won't be easy, Phebe, but you have to be brave. I have to leave you now."

Phoebe sighed. "I know. We may not be able to talk directly to one another again, but we will always know what in each other's heart and our love will speak where words cannot."

Marty shook his head, sadness etched into his features. "No, I'm afraid we won't even have that."

Phoebe stared at him. "I don't understand."

"Phoebe, it's time for you to start living again."

Phoebe put her hands to Marty's shoulders. "You aren't making any sense."

Marty looked into the shadows and squinted. He straightened his shoulders and held her close to him, whispering in her hair. "This isn't going to be easy for you. What I'm trying to say is that it's time for me to join Gordy. Standing up against Tan has drained me dry. I can't stay here any longer."

"NO!" Phoebe pulled away and made a fist that she used to drum against his chest. "You aren't leaving me! You can't leave me, damn it! I need you! I need you in my life! I won't lose you after all of this! I won't!"

Marty's voice was slow and measured. "Sweetheart, it's time to move on. Time for both of us to move on. You've hung in there so much longer than I could have hoped for. You've given up so much for me, but it's time for you to start living again."

Phoebe grabbed Marty's arms, pulling him closer, her anger taking on a pleading tone. "No, Marty, please don't do this. Not after I've got you back with me again. No..."

"I've always listened to you. You played a song in my heart that's carried me a long way, but it's time for you to start a new melody."

"Marty, no."

"Phoebe, we've got to let him go." Peter had been silent throughout the entire exchange, but he had to interrupt. "Ibegged Gordy to let Marty stay when Gordy wanted him to go with him before. I blamed myself for that mistake, but after today, I think it was the only way for things to play out."

Phoebe turned her head toward Peter, but she didn't release her hold on Marty. If anything, she grabbed on tighter. "Peter, no, I've got him back. I can talk to him now and I know he can hear me. There's no question of it now. It makes everything different, so very, very different. He has to stay. I don't know what I'll do if he leaves me. Don't let him go, Peter!"

Peter gently pried her away from Marty's arms and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Phoebe, it isn't up to us. It's up to Marty. He stayed for you last time. I don't think we can ask him to stay any longer. He's been through the wars and now it's time for him to go to a better place."

"Marty, no! Stay!"

"Can't, Phebe. Like Peter says, it's time."

As if on cue, the shadowy Death moved forward, slowly this time, but just as steadily as it had done with Tan. Phoebe almost bolted from Peter's grasp until he tightened his hold on her. The darkness stole up Marty's legs, nearly engulfing him. Phoebe was clinging so tightly to Marty that Peter moved one of his hands over hers and gasped when he felt Death's cold touch wisp across his skin.

Marty was able to pull away in one final move, distancing himself from Peter and Phoebe. "I'll love you always, Phoebe," he said quickly, and then Death whisked him away before either Peter or Phoebe could say another word.

The two of them stood silent and motionless as Marty disappeared from sight, caught up in the drama of the moment. It was heartache and release at the same time. It was sacrifice and reward. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another. It was agony itself.

Phoebe sagged in his arms as the facade surrounding their consciousness faded and he held onto her as tightly as he could. As unconsciousness claimed him, he wondered if Phoebe would ever the be same again, but then he paused. He knew he'd never be the same after surviving this night.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	20. Chapter 20

1

**Chapter Twenty**

Peter opened his eyes to darkness. It took him a few minutes to realize from the sounds and smells that he was back in the hospital. He also sensed another presence nearby. "Who's there?"

He tensed until he heard, "It's just me, Peter. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

It was Phoebe. He let out a long breath. "It's okay, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I called JD and he brought me over. The house seems so...empty."

Peter looked around the room. "Where's JD now?"

"He went to take some carry out from Zippo's deli to Mike and Ray. They'll be in seventh heaven. You haven't heard them complaining about the hospital food?"

Peter shook his head. "I haven't been awake much. How are they doing?"

"Better than you. Paul told me you've been having a hard time with everything."

Peter's gaze darted away in rush of anger. "He shouldn't have said that."

"It isn't true?"

Peter sighed. "That doesn't matter. You've got a full plate already. I'll be okay. I'm the least of your worries."

She sat there, watching him sadly. "Your body might heal okay, like it did after the accident that killed Gordy, but if you don't change your thinking, you'll still carry this wound in your heart, just like you've been doing for the last five years. I can't stand the thought of you doing that for another day. Five years is a long prison sentence for anyone, but you aren't even guilty of a crime."

Peter stared at the foot of his bed, anything to keep from looking into Phoebe's eyes. "You-you don't know. You can't know."

Phoebe's voice was soft, but sure as she said, "I know you, Peter Caine. I know what Gordy told me about the blast. I know what I can see with my own eyes."

"Phoebe, please...I hate to say this, but maybe you should just go. I'm just not up to visitors right now."

Phoebe just sat there, not saying a word. Finally, Peter glanced over at her. She met his gaze with a determined smile. "Sorry, can't do that, Peter. Did you forget my stubborn streak?"

Peter's anger made him look away. "It's not fair to throw my own words back at me."

"Whatever it takes to do the job." She leaned closer to him. "I heard it said once that a guilty conscience needs no accuser. Peter, there's no accuser here except you. You may have lived with this guilt for years, but you've got to stop blaming yourself."

Peter blinked and took a deep breath. If she didn't stop soon, he was going to have to throw off his blankets, grab his IV pole, and make his way out of the room. He spoke in short bursts and hoped his anger wouldn't explode before he finished. "If I learned anything from Tan, it's seeing my mistakes laid out so clearly for the first time in months. I can't blame that on Tan. They are my mistakes, and no one else's."

"Tan really did a number on you, didn't he?" she said, shaking her head. "Everyone has dark places in their hearts. It's suicide to linger there too long."

Peter looked down at his clenched fists and slowly made them open. He spread his fingers out on his blanket and said, "He may have showed me the dark places, but I'm the one who put them there."

Suddenly, everything from the past few months burst out of the confinement inside of his heart and he gasped from the depth of those emotions. He tried to look away again but couldn't this time. It would have seemed too cowardly.

Phoebe reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Peter remained silent, knowing if he uttered a single word, he would lose his composure completely.

She filled the silence with her own words. "Honey, Marty and Gordy told you not to blame yourself. You couldn't have done anything more at the time, because if you could have, you would have. Peter, I've seen you move heaven and earth from sheer will power. It just wasn't possible. It's as simple as that."

Peter took a ragged breath, blinking several times as an internal war sprang up, one for the prosecution and one for the defense.

Phoebe leaned closer, her lips brushing against his temple. "Acceptance and surrender are powerful things. I know because that's all I've been dealing with while you've been in here. Lo Si told me life is a delicate balance of holding on and letting go. We've both been holding on to things we should have let go of long ago and it's put us out of whack with our real emotions. Let Marty and Gordy go because it's what they want us to do, and because it's the right thing to do. We need to move on and start living like Marty said."

He pressed his face into her hair as he stammered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I-I miss them. I miss them so damned much. Seeing them again only made those feelings grow stronger."

Her breath caught in her chest and Peter could tell by how long it took for her breathing to settle back into a regular rhythm that she was crying, too. "I know, so do I. I think we will always miss them and that's okay. It reminds us how lucky we were to have them in our lives."

Peter rubbed at the tears on his face and his hand lingered, covering his eyes in a moment of shielded privacy. When he moved it away, he smiled slightly. "When did you get so damned wise?"

She smiled and took his hand. "Well, I have been hanging out a lot with your father and the Ancient the past few days."

She squeezed his hand. "You've been avoiding your father, haven't you? It's okay, he knows you need time to digest everything."

"He told you that?"

"No, he didn't have to. You are so much like him in so many ways. You're lucky to have both him and Paul to call father."

Peter nodded, drawing his lips together in thought. He pulled back to look her in the eyes. "You seem at peace now. You really have let go of everything."

"Peace is only something you can find for yourself, others can't do it for you." Her smile grew wistful. "If that was possible, I'd give it to you right now. No, the change in me was something else completely. You forget I can see spirits. I'm lucky, I have Gordy and Marty with me whenever they come back from the other side."

She squeezed his hand once more as his eyes clouded with tears and he asked, "They're really okay?"

She nodded, looking across the bed. He turned in that direction and smiled when he saw Gordy standing there. "Gordy, good to see you again."

Gordy smiled back at him. "I've been here with Phoebe a few times, but you were unconscious until recently. I didn't want to go in uninvited and disturb your beauty sleep, so I let you rest. Besides, I wanted to wait until I could bring a guest along."

Peter's eyebrows knitted together. "Who's here?"

Phoebe answered his question. "Marty's beside him."

Peter glanced over beside Gordy, wishing his gift would allow him to see both brothers. Phoebe went silent as if listening, and then looked to Peter. "Marty says you can't let the things Tan said to you still twist around inside of you."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, not quite accepting Marty's message. In a quiet voice, he asked, "What do you do? What do you do when it's true? I mean, I know most-most of what Tan said was done to hurt me, to make me into a pawn to use against my father, but the problem is I can't honestly deny the basis of truth in the things Tan made me look at."

Phoebe stood and walked down the length of the bed deep in thought. When she turned back to him, she said, "Marty wants to know who is stronger? Those who hurt us by forcing us to look at the dark places in our hearts or the ones who bring us back into the light?"

The question caught Peter by so much surprise, his reaction actually hurt. He gasped and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut more tightly. Phoebe's voice was more sure when she spoke next. "Marty says he knows the answer to that one firsthand. He would still be languishing in the dark if you, your father, and Gordy hadn't gone looking for him. The light you shine is so much stronger than any darkness that might have been inside of you. You were a beacon to him. For that, he'll never forget you."

Gordy spoke up, "Listen to him, man. What Marty's saying is the gospel truth."

Peter ran a hand through his hair and tried to keep his shoulders from shaking with barely restrained emotions. "I hadn't thought - I mean, I didn't - God, you guys are stronger, so much stronger. Why didn't I see that before?"

Gordy said, "Tan was a master manipulator. Marty knows that truth as well as you do. Prove what you just said by letting our light, the light of your friends and loved ones and your own internal light, shine on those dark places. Let the light in. Heal and move on."

Peter looked in Gordy's direction. "I appreciate everything you've have done for me."

"But..."

"But like you said, peace is something you have to find for yourself. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. We'd all be dead today if it wasn't for what you guys did for us."

Phoebe smiled as Gordy said, "You don't have to thank us. There are no debts of gratitude between old friends, only good memories."

Peter nodded.

"Work through it, Pete. I know you're stubborn, but you're also smart. Use those smarts and forget the stubbornness." Gordy grinned at him and pointed with his thumb to the door. "It's time for us to jam. We've gotta head back to the other side, but don't worry, we'll be back to check on you. This is the _Twilight Zone_ signing off."

Gordy's voice mimicked the theme song for a moment, then he faded from Peter's view. Phoebe patted Peter on the arm. "How are you doing?"

Peter smiled at her sadly. "Better, but I still don't get you."

"Get me?"

"Yeah. Because of me, Marty's gone. And yet here you are comforting me. I couldn't even make it to his memorial service."

"Oh Peter..."

"I'm sorry, Phoebe, I know you're trying to help and you've done so much, but there's still a lot I've got to work through on my own."

Phoebe sighed, discouragement etched into the tired lines on her face. There was a noise and she looked to the door of Peter's hospital room. JD was standing there in the open doorway. "I was wondering if Peter would be awake for your visit this time. You okay, Peter?"

Peter lied and nodded his reply. To cover the awkwardness of the moment, he asked, "How are Mike and Ray doing?"

"Same as ever. They were like a pair of ravenous wolves when they saw what we'd brought them from Zippo's Deli. Even in the dead of night, they were hungry."

JD laughed and looked at Peter again. "You look tired, bro. You sure you're doing okay?"

Peter caught Phoebe exchange a look of concern with JD and sighed. Sometimes, it seemed like life would be much easier if he just went off and became a hermit. "Yeah, I am pretty tired, JD. Maybe you could take Phoebe home and I'll catch a few winks."

This time, it was Phoebe who sighed, but she didn't push the issue. Peter knew better than to think this was the last he'd hear from her about the subject. But that was okay, anything as long as she left him alone for the night. His brain was buzzing with so many sides to their conversation, pros and cons, and he was truly too tired to sort it all out.

She stood and leaned over the bed to kiss him on the cheek. "Just remember I'm not going to let up on you until you come around. We will talk about this again."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Peter said with resigned assurance.

She walked to the doorway to join JD, but stopped and looked back at him. Peter waved and pulled up his blanket like he was going to drop right off to sleep. Peter knew Phoebe saw right through him, but she only said, "Good night," and left.

Sleep was the very last thing on Peter's agenda. Everyone wanted him to act like he hadn't done a thing and start living as if he'd gotten a clean slate on life, but that just wasn't the case. Peter had a lot of things to think about and a hospital room was the very last place where he could think clearly.

After a moment, he threw back the covers and started to sit up. He hissed when his ribs protested the movement, and his head spun from the change in position. "Oh, this is going to be fun," he said to himself and pushed until he was sitting up. A few moments later, he had removed the IV and other attachments the hospital staff had put on him while he was in their care, and went to stand.

It took a long while, but Peter was able to escape his room undetected and fled into the quiet of the pre-dawn night.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Peter heard his father approach his secret place at the lake just after sunrise, noting his slow pace as he limped along with the help of a cane. Without looking, Peter said quietly, "I appreciate that you came all this way to find me, but I'm fine. I left the hospital because I needed to be alone to think some things through, not because I wanted company."

Caine didn't reply, but Peter had a distinct impression of deja vu. How many days had passed since he first said those very words 'I need to be alone' to his father? It might have only been a little over a week, but it seemed like a lifetime ago.

He opened his eyes to find his father looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Perhaps you do not need to be alone as much as you think you do. These past few weeks have been a journey for you from the darkness into the light. Marty and Gordy helped in that process."

"Finding 'the light' after letting a friend die, not to mention all the ones before him die...it's an awfully high price for my self realization."

Caine stepped closer to Peter. "You had to turn inward to see around you without distraction. Now you know your path. Now you are free to heal. Now you can embrace your future."

Peter frowned angrily. "I'm not free to do one blessed thing. I feel like I'm being crushed by everyone around me. And what about my future? You're big on destiny. What about everyone who died while I was on my way to understanding? Those people would be alive if they hadn't known me. What kind of destiny is that?"

"My son, they had their own path to follow. They had to find understanding in their own way, just as you did."

"I can't accept that. It's too high a price to pay for understanding."

"Not necessarily. Remember Gordy and Marty's last words to you. They found their own understanding and discerned their own paths."

Peter shivered, not sure of it was from the cold or his angry refusal to believe his father. As if changing the subject, Caine reached into his satchel and pulled out a small thermos and some cups. "I brought some tea to warm you, along with some food."

Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. "If I'd wanted tea and food, I'd have gotten it myself."

Caine sat on the grass with the ease of a person who didn't have an injured knee and proceeded to cross his legs, although not as tightly as he usually did. Peter thought about asking him how the hell he was able to do that, but decided against it as the answer would probably frustrate him further. He understood so little about the seemingly magic ways of his enigmatic father.

Kwai Chang opened the thermos and began to pour. Peter started to tell his father to leave the lake or he would, but strangely the words didn't come. Instead, he saw how much his icy hands were trembling. He really hadn't noticed the cold up to this point.

With a sigh, Peter closed his eyes and thought of those who had passed on in the past few months. A cascading flow of images of the people he'd once known but were now dead rushed through Peter's thoughts. There were far too many of them, people he loved and those he didn't. Kira, Tan, his mother, and Max. Those lost souls and so many more. The dead were now haunting him in a way he never thought possible.

A hand on Peter's arm made him jump and his father spoke, "I have heard it said that_ 'one may defeat a thousand obstacles and adversaries, yet he who defeats the enemies within is the noblest victor.'"_

"Enemies within? I don't think I'll ever defeat them. It's been five years and it still hurts like we just lost Gordy. I don't know if the guilt will ever go away. Hell, what am I talking about? My whole life has been about losing those I love. First, Mom, then you, all the way up to Marty. How do you deal with shit like that inside of you?"

"You keep going. A time comes when you aren't holding onto it as tightly. A short time later, the hold loosens again. A year passes, then two, then you realize you've managed to go on without being in such pain."

"You're talking about Mom."

Caine nodded. "All of us carry guilt, because we are human and make mistakes. The gift of life is learning to forgive yourself for those mistakes."

Peter grunted. "What about Phoebe? What about the things she's got to face with Marty being dead?"

"She will be fine. She tackles life head on and she has found the secret to overcoming whatever life can throw at her. She knows she is never alone as long as she has the love of friends and family to sustain her. She is ready to begin the next phase of her life, perhaps even with JD.

"Peter, there is no escaping the fact that life has bound your path forever with these people. It was the trials and pain that tied you all together to emerge stronger as a whole. It was only because of these ties that Tan was defeated. Tan had no inkling whatsoever about how deeply these ties ran and it proved to be his undoing. You too will find the answers Phoebe has found with time."

Peter picked up a stone and threw it into the water to keep his hands from shaking with emotion. "You make it sound so easy," he said, anger coloring his words.

Caine smiled broadly. _"'All things are difficult before they are easy.'"_

Peter went silent. He picked another stone and held it in his hand. "I'm not totally dense, you know. I understand everything people have been saying to me. It's just-it's just so hard to let go of the difficult things I've gone through lately. Like if I let go of that, I'd let go of something important inside of me, like I'd be letting go of myself and if that happened, I'd never find my way again."

Kwai Chang didn't say anything. Peter tossed the stone into the water, barely hiding the grunt that came with the throw from his aching ribs. A minute passed and he threw another stone out of sheer stubbornness, watching as it skimmed the water several times.

His father simply sipped at his tea and watched Peter. Peter scratched at the back of his neck. For some reason, his irritation was fading and that surprised him. He took as much of a deep breath as his ribs would allow and picked up his tea cup for the first time. He held it with both hands for a moment, enjoying its warmth, then he took a sip, only to be surprised again, this time at how soothing the tea seemed to be.

"_'Like water which can clearly mirror the sky and the trees only so long as its surface is undisturbed, the man can only reflect the true image of the Self when it is tranquil and wholly relaxed.'_"

Peter rolled his head slowly, stretching his neck muscles. "Okay, maybe I do understand myself a little better now, better than I have for a very long time."

Caine nodded. "Fate isn't an arbitrary force in our lives. Everything serves a purpose."

Now, Peter nodded. "Like finding you again."

"Like finding you again, my son."

Peter grunted and shook his head. "Phoebe asked me who was stronger, Tan or you and the others in my life. Up to that moment, I was thinking it was Tan, because he'd made me look at the dark places in my soul. The question took me completely by surprise. Until then, I didn't understand that it was the love of my friends and family that helped me climb back into the light that was so much stronger. Man, was I ever wrong."

He wrapped his arms around his ribs and cringed, hanging his head down as the realization hit home once more. In an instant, he gave up fighting against his guilt as everything tumbled into place, like some great epiphany. It all seemed so simple and freeing. He was stronger now, because of the very people and ideals he'd been trying to push away. In them, he now found himself in a way he'd never know before.

He wasn't ashamed when his tears began to fall, because this time, the tears were cleansing his soul, washing away the accumulated grime that life's events had left upon him.

Caine let him cry without speaking or even touching him. Finally, he said, "I have heard it said that _Experience is the only teacher that gives the test first and the lesson later_. You have seen the truth in allowing the light into your soul in order to acknowledge all that you've learned and to see the future open up before you."

Peter sighed and looked up at his father. "I think I'd rather pass on the test next time, Pop, if you don't mind, and just go straight the lesson."

Caine patted Peter on the cheek as he often did. Peter grinned. "Pushing in another lesson?"

Caine nodded and put an arm around Peter. For the first time in months, Peter's inner demons were quiet and he just rested in his father's loving embrace. Maybe his friends and family had been right all along and he couldn't see it until that moment. Whatever the cause, life now seemed as if it was something to look forward to, instead of future burdens just waiting to drop upon his shoulders. That, in itself, was a gift.

**oOoOoOoOo**

**The End**


End file.
